Happy September Samcedes shippers! There's less than one week until senior year and that means that I'm going to be busy than ever with college prep stuff. However, I will try my very best to update whenever possible. This chapter is kind of long and I want to apologize beforehand to anyone who feels that this chapter is way too detailed, dragging, and/or doesn't contain much action. There is a lot of back story, mostly about Sam, that I felt was necessary to include so that you readers can better identify with Mercedes and Sam, two teenagers living in the 21st century filled with recklessness, sex, drugs, music, and booze. (For anyone who doesn't understand slang terms used here (ex: DSL or Dick Sucking Lips), please find your way to).

As always, I would like to thank the following people who took the time to review Chapter 3:

Jollyrancher-25

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Your support is sincerely appreciated!

PAIRINGS: Samcedes, Finnchel, Fabravans, and slight Klaine

DISCLAIMER: Glee is owned by FOX.

RATING: Rated M for strong language, underage drinking, teen angst, drug use, sexual themes and innuendos. For mature audiences only!

Four

The Streets of Avenue C & Broadway

Lower East Side

"Lemme get this straight," Sam started. There was an amused grin etched on his pale face as he glanced down at the girl from Arlene's he had been dying to talk to.

Her name was Mercedes and Sam found her to be much prettier up close. Her eyes were a glossy brown that reminded him of whiskey on a good day. Her skin was absolutely radiant and, as horribly cliché as it sounded, was like melted dark chocolate. Plus, Puck was spot on when it came to her glossy red lips. The girl definitely had a smoking pair of DSL on her. He couldn't help but wonder if she ever put those to good use.

Yet, as much as he needed a good fuck, Sam didn't want to use this girl for a sexercism, as Puck liked to call it. He was definitely attracted to her, in more ways than one, but he wanted to get to know this girl, for her. She seemed like a pretty cool and genuine girl, who was way too good to be a one night stand. And, maybe if he got lucky, something interesting could happen between them.

The pair was walking aimlessly down Broadway and Avenue C. There was a few cars dawdling down the deserted avenue. The Lower East Side wasn't really a tourist attraction at night, save for the night owls who hopped from bar to bar. Actually, they were a couple of blocks away from Tompkins Square. That was where he and Puck usually scored pot from some orthodox Jewish kid from Brooklyn.

"You and this girl decided to sneak out of your hotel because she wanted to see The Slices play?" he added.

Mercedes had let him in on the whole story and why she was looking for that sex kitten girl. Unsurprisingly, the sex kitten was in "love" with Finn Hudson like every other groupie in New York. Finn was one popular and busy guy.

Sam had actually seen this Rachel girl leave through the backdoor with Finn and his band mates. She was holding herself up on his rock hard shoulders, whispering something in his ear. Surprisingly, Finn actually seemed interested in her, or maybe the dress she was wearing was doing all the talking. There were other girls throwing themselves at him but he paid them no mind as he spotted Rachel clawing her way through the crowd. If you asked Sam, the whole thing was an indie rock version of Romeo and Juliet with the whole love at first sight shit.

He couldn't help but laugh at the fact that Mercedes actually hated her sex kitten classmate. The fucking irony! According to her, she only decided to tag along because of some promise to be lead singer of their school's Glee Club. To Sam, the thought of Glee Club sounded like a heap of horse shit and a total waste of time. Windsor Day had a Glee Club but everyone knew that it was social suicide to even be associated with the club. The flaming 'mos were usually the ones that made up Windsor's Glee Club.

She was a singer, which meant that that mouth of hers was much more talented than he expected. That was a fact that played in his mind like a great opening to a superhero movie or a porno.

"Epic!" Sam blurted with a chuckle.

She gave him a scowl and an eye roll in response. "More like craptastic," she retorted.

"Do you even know where we're going?" she asked, changing the subject. She was growing restless and impatient. She was probably tired from another day of being a tourist or whatever.

She looked at him expectantly with those whiskey colored eyes. They had been walking without direction for almost twenty minutes and they were nowhere close to finding Rachel, Finn Hudson, or the his indie entourage.

Honestly, Sam had never actually been to a Cosmic Slices secret show. It was way too tiring and frustrating to actually find it. Besides, he didn't really have that great of an attention span anyway, thanks to his dyslexia and his favorite pastime. Every other night, Sam's Facebook newsfeed practically blew up with status updates and pictures on the band's whereabouts. Most of the clues were unreliable.

How the fuck could The Slices be in three totally different parts of the city at the exact same time?

It was total bullshit. By the second clue, he'd give up and head back home to The Oxford. He'd have a Heineken and a couple bong hits before calling it a night.

The whole secret show was The Cosmic Slices' way of garnering a larger fan base. Of course, it was all Finn's idea. He was looking for the big break that could bring his indie band to instant fame, endless moolah, and a different chick every night.

Knowing Finn, that Rachel girl could be anywhere. He had no clue where to go. His iPhone had yet to spit out another Facebook notification. The Slices must've really been under the radar tonight.

"It's a game of clue," Sam replied nonchalantly. He gave her an apologetic grin. There was nothing he could really do about it. Just like her, he was pretty much lost.

"Aren't we a little too old for Blue's Clues?" Mercedes asked. Her glossy eyes were flickering with sass, her plump lips curled into a small mocking grin. She was definitely quick witted and cheeky. Sam could get used to this girl.

"No one's ever too old for Blue!" Sam retorted with a scoff.

It wasn't something he would openly admit to Puck or any other of his guy friends. Yet, it was true because the blond watched it all the time. He found the kid's show refreshingly laugh inducing. He'd sit in front of the living room TV with a large box of Oreos in his lap and munch eagerly on a cookie as he yelled excitedly at the TV whenever Steve looked straight at the audience.

There was a brief silence as the two walked side by side. Sam's hands were stuffed in his pockets. His cheeks were lobster red from the ice cold wind. Mercedes seemed fine in just a thin yellow blazer.

Sam smirked at the way Mercedes took in her surroundings with a sense of awe. She definitely wasn't from around here, at least not New York City. A typical New Yorker would never be remotely awestruck or impressed by the Lower East Side. Only a total grockle would. If he was lucky, she would be some Jersey girl from the shore. She was definitely a newbie in the city, maybe living under a rock for most of her life.

"Where're you from?" Sam asked.

Her cheeks burned at that question. It didn't take a genius to know that the poor girl was embarrassed about where she was from.

Oh, this was going to be good.

"Ohio."

Sam blinked at her. "Midwest Ohio?"

The first thing that came to his mind at the thought of Ohio was tractors, cattle, and a never ending sea of cornfields.

She gave him an Are you serious? look. "I'm positive there's only one Ohio Blondie," she said matter-of-factly.

He shook his head. "Touché Mercy."

Sam smirked at his new nickname for her. It was damned cute if he said so himself.

"Where're you from?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Uptown," was his simple answer.

"What's Uptown?" she pressed curiously.

Sam licked his lips nervously. This was the part that he dreaded the most. He wasn't really the type to divulge on what part of the city he was actually from. He was an Upper East Sider, a trust fund baby, another douche with rich white boy problems. He pretty much heard every insult in the book. Yet, Sam didn't really like the elite life of the Upper East Side, he fucking hated it. His peers since Park Side Montessori were a bunch snobby assholes who spent their summers in Cape Cod, traveled to Aspen every winter, and shopped at Sak's Fifth Avenue instead of the "low class" Abercrombie & Fitch. Most would say he was one of them, but he refused to agree with that. Sure, he liked the easy money to get what he wanted but that was pretty much it.

Besides going to Windsor Day, Sam didn't really spend much of his time in the playground of Manhattan's elite. He preferred hanging out downtown with Puck, scoring pot from Tompkins Square, and getting wicked drunk, thanks to their authentic looking fake IDs.

Although the mere mention of his address was an instant panty dropper, Sam didn't really give two fucks that he lived in one of the most expensive apartment buildings in Manhattan. He wasn't the All-American boy bound for Yale that his parents tried to upkeep. Yeah, he was going to Yale next fall, thanks mostly to his parent's abundance of money and that fact that his dad was a big shot senator. Plus, Quinn was also going to Yale and it just worked out that way. Besides, it was the unwritten rule of high school and pretty much life. They were the hottest couple on the Upper East Side, the Barbie and Ken of Windsor and Saint Celia's. It was only right that they were both going off to New Haven together, or not so together.

He wasn't exactly sure if he even wanted to go to Yale like his father did. The image that his parents tried to maintain worked wonders for Stacie and Stevie, the two golden children of the Evans clan. Sam was the rotten apple, the outcast so to speak. His mom, a wealthy southern belle from Nashville and the daughter of an oil tycoon, always bitched about his unkempt hair that reached his neck, his less than average grades, and his little habit that always got him into trouble.

Why can't you be like Stacie and Stevie? Mama Evans would say.

He was a legit pothead who wanted to go to art school instead of that shit Ivy League. He wanted to work for Marvel or even start his own comic book series. He and Puck talked about it, mostly over a joint or two. Much to his father's dismay, Sam wasn't the next political big cat. That shit was Stevie's destiny.

One time, his parents almost disowned his ass when he showed up an hour late to a state dinner at the Waldorf Astoria. Daddy Evans was the guest speaker. His eyes were glazed and his pale blond hair was unkempt. He was wearing a black beanie and no tie. Instead of Dolce & Gabana loafers, he was wearing his old pair of scuffed Nike uptowns. He fucking reeked of cannabis and vodka. He was so close to losing his trust fund and his endless supply of alcohol and pot. The scare straightened him up a bit, but not enough to be like his brother and sister.

"The Upper East Side."

Mercedes looked at him with a perplexed look on her face. Yup, she was definitely a grockle. The mere mention of the Upper East Side would make a less than privileged New York scoff in his face or a gold digger's eyes seeing dollar signs.

"Near the Met?" she asked.

Sam nodded his head. Coincidently, The Oxford was on Fifth Avenue, right around the corner from The Met. "You can say that," he said, clearing his throat.

"Tell me about yourself," Sam said. He swallowed the lump in his throat. The subject of where he lived needed to end.

"About what?"

God, he couldn't keep himself from smiling like an idiot around Mercedes.

"I have no idea if I'm walking with a mass murderer or a serial rapist attracted to hot blond boys," was Sam's quick rebuttal. He was just busting her chops. But, he hoped she was into hot blond boys, like himself. That would make his night much more exciting.

"I could say the same thing about you including hot blond boys," Mercedes returned cheekily.

"Honestly, I'm curious."

As they ambled closer to Bleecker Street, Sam listened intently as Mercedes explained her not-so-epic life in middle-of-nowhere Ohio. She was the daughter of a small time dentist and lived in a modest house on a suburban cul-de-sac. The girl was a senior like him and went to McKinley High School but, unlike him, she was a straight A student. Sam knew of the president named McKinley, first name whatever. He just couldn't tell whether this McKinley guy was the eighth, eighteenth, or the twenty eighth president.

Mercedes ended up in The Big Apple on a school trip sponsored by her school's Glee Club. Tomorrow morning at seven, she would be on the first train out of Penn Station headed west for the cornfields of Ohio.

He tried his very best to listen as she spoke. Yet, he couldn't help but stare in fucking awe at the way her lips formed every word oh so perfectly. Fuck! How he wanted those lips pressed against his lips and other parts of his body. This getting to know her was still his top priority but his second head was beginning to meddle with that.

She was in the middle of explaining her time in New York, when his iPhone suddenly jiggled in his pocket. He quickly glanced at Mercedes, a relieved look in his deep green eyes. Finally, a damned clue. He was seconds away from throwing himself at her.

Mercedes stopped midsentence as Sam fished his tattered True Religion jeans for his phone. He looked at the caller ID and rolled his eyes. It was his asshole best friend, Noah Puckerman.

"Fuck Miss DSL yet?" was Puck's greeting. Sam could hear the sound of Puck's LED television blaring on max.

"Very mature Puckerman." Sam answered sarcastically. "What do you want?"

"Someone told me where The Slices might be." Puck shouted into the phone.

"Who?" Sam asked curiously.

"Lauren."

"Lauren Zizes?"

Sam was a little dubious about it. Lauren and Puck haven't talked in a while. They were pretty much dead to each other. The blond couldn't help but think that Puck was fucking her again without telling him.

"Yeah dude. She was the girl who rocked my world," Puck crooned.

Lauren Zizes went to Saint Celia's Preparatory School, the all girl's school directly across the street from Windsor. Zizes was definitely no beauty queen, which surprised Sam when Puck told him about her. Puckerman usually liked his girls small, slender, and a little airheaded.

Their relationship started as a random drunken hookup at some rooftop party. That one night fuck ended up turning into a full blown Friends with Benefits relationship. Surprisingly, Lauren was the one who dumped Puck. He had gotten too emotionally attached. She claimed that a boyfriend/girlfriend relationship wasn't her thing.

"What did she say?"

"Remember Finn Hudson's after prom bash a couple years back?" Puck asked. Sam could imagine that nostalgic look in Puck's eyes. It was probably the best party both boys had ever been to. Kids on the Upper East Side still talked about it. To date, no one was able top a party that good.

"How could I forget?"

He and Puck were both in ninth grade while Hudson was a graduating senior. After Windsor and Saint Celia's A Night in Paris themed prom, Finn threw an after prom party in the Presidential Suite of the Plaza Hotel, the best money can buy. Like many of the other underclassmen, Sam and Puck decided to crash the party. After all, there wasn't any clear cut guest list.

The amount of alcohol and drugs were free flowing. There was everything from cocaine to malt liquor. The slutty girls from the French all girls' school on the Upper West Side took refuge in the hot tub showing off their perky B cup boobs and perfectly waxed lady parts. There was dancing, grinding, gyrating, and fist pumping. The silk couches and floors were ruined with piss and vomit stains. The four bathrooms were occupied with threesomes to fivesomes, the bedrooms were destroyed from top to bottom, and the marble floors were littered with beer cans and empty vodka bottles.

That was the first time Sam had ever gotten drunk. He woke up the next morning with a throbbing headache and dried vomit caked around his lips. He went home with a moustache, a pointed beard, and the word COCKSUCKER drawn on his face with a sharpie. According to Puck, it was some random but good looking badass who tagged the blond.

That also was the first time Sam met Quinn Fabray. She was the new girl at Saint Celia's from some boarding school in New England. She was the daughter of an ex-supermodel and the senior VP of Barclays. He couldn't stop staring at her as she sat in a corner talking with a bunch of girls, a red solo cup in her perfectly manicured hands. She had long golden blonde hair that fell well past her shoulders and a beautiful smile that made him weak in the knees. She was wearing a simple white linen dress that made her look so delicate and showed off her tanned shoulders. She was stealing glances at him with her wide hazel eyes and blushed furiously whenever he caught her.

Thanks to a few Sam Adams and Puck's encouragement, he mustered up the courage to ask her to dance. They danced like Vince and Mia from Pulp Fiction, so flawless and in tune. Every girl watched in envy as Sam held Quinn close, his hands around her tiny waist. Every guy watched as the hottest girl in the room laughed gleefully as Sam spun her in circles. As they say, the rest was history.

Quinn Fabray was Sam's first love. It was a shame that things ended the way it did. Back then, she was beautiful, carefree, and a free spirit. She didn't care about the fakeness and frivolity of the Upper East Side. There was this one time, early on in their relationship, when Sam was stuck in the August heat of the city at another political event. He was stuck at the Yale Club wearing a constricting business suit and standing awkwardly among kids he didn't know as his dad schmoozed endlessly for the upcoming gubernatorial election, which he lost anyway. He complained to Quinn over text as she was being ignored by her ass kissing father at a business brunch in Connecticut. She escaped from the event and took the first Metro North train to Grand Central. Sam remembered the moment he fell in love with her as she emerged from the train in an Oscar de la Renta sundress and cheap dollar store flip flops. They spent the day and night at the carnival in Coney Island.

As months passed, however, Quinn became another plastic Upper East Side Barbie. Her nose was stuck up to anyone who wasn't anyone, she wore nothing that wasn't from Bergdorf's or Bendel's, and she had this entourage of wannabe minions following her every step. It was a nightmare that Sam blamed on that stupid teen girl show Gossip Girl. He fell out of love with the new and improved Quinn. She was snobby, bitchy, and very demanding. That was the girl he broke up with on New Year's and not the Quinnie he knew. But, now all he could do was forget about her and broaden his horizons. Life was way too fucking short to bitch and moan about things that couldn't change. He broke up with her and he needed to move the fuck on with his dating life.

"Well, that's where Lauren says they are," Puck said, knocking Sam out of his thoughts.

"Are you sure?"

"I don't know Evans. Zizes seemed pretty sure."

Sam sighed in resignation. This was where the hard work began. "Alright Puckernman. I'll check it out."

He was about to hang up when Puck shouted one last thing. "Fuck her before the night is over Sammy boy!"

Sam slid the phone into his pocket and gave Mercedes a hopeful grin. "Blue finally has a clue."

"Where're we going?" she asked.

"The Plaza Hotel."

Mercedes's glossy eyes widened with awe. "The Plaza Hotel as in Eloise?"

Sam gave her a mischievous smirk. "I'm pretty sure there's only one Plaza Hotel," was his quick and clever response.

She sneered jokingly at him. "Ha. Ha. Blondie."

Sam let out a chuckle. He threw his hand in the air as a cab drove past them. The taxi came to a sudden stop and he slid into the dark car. Mercedes got in after, slamming the door behind her.

She was sitting dangerously close to him, which gave Sam a full view of the short girl's ample chest. Her tits were huge and she showed it off by wearing a low cut black shirt. His mouth watered at the sight of her boobs slightly jiggling as the car sped away. God, he had to have her! He must've been staring for a little too long with his tongue hanging out because Mercedes finally cleared her throat. She slid to the other window and gave him a knowing smirk.

"Take a picture Blondie. It'll last longer."