Happy November! Sorry for the delay. There's been a lot going on with college prep stuff and I just applied to my first college! Also, I did a lot of revisions with this chapter to add some Mercedes back story leading up the New York trip. Sam got his turn last chapter and now it's all Mercedes with a bit on teen angst, of course! In my opinion, this is where this story starts getting good. You'll just have to read on to see.

As always, I would like to thank the people who took five seconds of their life to review Chapter 4:

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Five

The Plaza Hotel

768 Fifth Avenue

Upper East Side

"Oh my God," Mercedes whispered. She couldn't help but gawk in awe as she and Sam strolled into the brightly lit lobby of The Plaza Hotel. She couldn't believe it. Places like this didn't exist back home in Lima. The fanciest hotel in Lima was the Econo Lodge off the freeway with the indoor pool, fitness center, and the prostitution ring nearby. Yet, this place was no Econo Lodge with cheap hookers doing their thing out back. This place pretty much oozed opulence. The two were greeted by a massive Baccarat crystal chandelier that could easily light half of Manhattan and a large expanse of glossy marble floors.

She and the rest of Glee Club knew of Manhattan's most famous hotel. On their first full day in New York, the group caught a small glimpse of the hotel as they explored the huge Apple Store across the street. Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce were tempted to cross the crowded street and claw their way through the glitterati of the Plaza but were whisked away by Miss Pillsbury to the iPad section.

The Plaza was actually the Glee Club's first choice when it came to a place to stay, thanks to the encouragement of none other than Rachel Berry. It was the brunette's idea for the group to stay at The Plaza throughout the Christmas vacation trip. It was probably the first time that everyone else in Glee Club actually agreed one hundred percent with Miss Bossy Pants.

Their jaws practically hit the floor when Rachel, famously persistent and meticulous, gave a PowerPoint presentation of the hotel during a Glee Club meeting. Even Santana, the resident bitch, was ready to pack her bags pronto. But, the seven hundred dollar a night price tag was more than enough for everyone to revert back to disagreeing with the brunette. The group was more than satisfied with The Morningside Inn, which was still better than any Econo Lodge.

"Your tourist is showing," Sam purred, dragging the awestruck Mercedes back to reality. He was staring intently at her, his green eyes squinting with amusement. He seemed much more interested in her than the beauty of The Plaza. The way he looked at her made her stomach do Olympic worthy summersaults.

Mortified, Mercedes shot him a quick glare as he shook his head at her, his trademark smirk playing on his lips. Those perfectly moist lips were large, cherry red, and looked especially juicy. She wanted to slap herself as her dark brown eyes ogled his lips. This guy was helping her find Rachel and The Cosmic Slices, even though he wasn't doing such a good job so far.

Of course, he was wickedly cute and she couldn't help but imagine what godliness lied under his skimpy cotton sweater. Actually, she caught a sneak peak of what wonders was under the sweater. It was a simple white v-neck that hung perfectly low to show off a small slice of his beefy pale chest. God, Blondie was such a tease. But, that was SO not the point.

Besides, she was a good girl and good girls didn't lose their V cards to a one night screw. Well, that depends on who you ask. If you asked anyone in Glee Club, Mercedes was the textbook definition of a good girl. But, if asked any clueless and gossiping McKinley student, she was anything but a good girl.

Because of her ex-beau Shane Tinsley, Mercedes was tagged McKinley High School's easiest girl, even though she'd never even sipped wine. Hell, running around New York City with a near stranger trying to find a drunken Rachel and a horny indie rocker was, by far, the craziest thing she'd ever done in her whole entire life.

The exorcism of Mercedes's reputation started on one of her dates with Shane. They hadn't been on a date for a few weeks with football games and Glee Club getting in the way. Shane decided to surprise Mercedes with a date to La Chez de Moulin, an upscale French Restaurant in downtown Lima. He pulled some strings and got a last minute reservation on a busy Saturday night. Usually their usual date night consisted of watching Monday night football at Breadstix. Scoring those reservations was Shane's way of saying sorry for not only ignoring her because of his hectic football schedule but missing their six monthiversary, or that's what Mercedes initially thought.

Shane told her to wear something nice. Mercedes assumed he said this because her usual ensemble of jeggings, studded boots, and a fedora wasn't going to cut it at a snooty place like La Chez. So, she decided on a slinky black dress with a ruffled hem and her trusty suede purple heels.

They enjoyed a nice dinner on the outside patio of the restaurant. The food was delicious, the service superb, and Shane even convinced their waiter to give them two flutes of champagne to toast their belated six monthiversary. The supposed icing on their romantic evening was a rectangular black box, complete with a white bow that Shane pulled out of his pocket and slid it across the linen clad table.

Surprised, the Diva looked up at her boyfriend, who had a large, expecting smile on his pudgy face. Like a little girl at Christmas, she excitedly clapped her hands.

Was it the purple studded earrings that she had been hinting for?

She eagerly undid the silk bow and opened the box, expecting to see two shining pairs of earrings staring back at her. Her bright smile faltered and turned into a frown. Instead of earrings, she was staring at a hotel room key from the sleazy Econo Lodge off the freeway.

She glared at Shane and that stupid, pervy grin on his face. He had set her up!

The French restaurant, the candlelit dinner, him pulling out her seat for her, and the roses that he greeted her with at her door, now made sense to her. All he wanted was to get all balls deep with her in a sleazy hotel room.

He knew that she wasn't ready to have sex. They'd had this talk too many times to even count. But, he was always pushy and impatient.

"So…you in?" Shane asked as if he were talking to one of his boys.

Mercedes angrily threw down her linen napkin and jerked her chair back. She grabbed her purple clutch and wordlessly started for the door. Who did he think she was? Some floozy who could easily be wined, dined, and grinded all in one night?

Even if she was ready to go all the way, she was way too classy to bump and grind with hookers and druggies in the courtyard below them. Shane and his cheap ass could've at least paid a little extra for a real hotel room and then maybe, just maybe, she would've forked over the goods.

"Where do you think you're going?" Shane called after her, getting up from his seat.

This was when, the other restaurant guests turned to look at them. They were in luck. They were getting dinner and a show.

He pulled her arm back and she jerked it away.

"Who do you think I am? Some easily bought tramp? I'm not Twinkies Shane" Mercedes snapped.

"So I do all of this for you and this is the thanks I get?" Shane scoffed sarcastically.

Trying her hardest to keep herself from being seen as a ghetto bitch, Mercedes gave her soon-to-be-ex a small scowl instead.

"If you want something for the flowers, the dinner, the champagne, and your time, you're in luck."

The Diva took a step forth, opened her clutch, and threw a fifty dollar bill in his face. "We're through," was her last words to him.

That Monday, Mercedes, free of her usual makeup, got out of her Honda CRV. She was dressed in her old purple sweat suit, known as her I don't give a fuck outfit. For the whole weekend, she holed herself up in her room, nursing her painful breakup with a pint of Ben & Jerry's half baked ice cream and old reruns of Sex and the City. She was the one who broke up with him and he was an epic asshole, but she was a girl and it still hurt like hell. He was her first and only love.

She had already taken the steps towards erasing Shane from her life. First, she changed her relationship status to single and kept herself from checking her newsfeed like she usually did. Secondly, she filled a large box with old mementos of her and Shane. Old pictures, love letters, an oversized sweatshirt, and her purple encrusted promise ring (that she sadly had to part with) were all in her trunk.

She languidly trotted through the parking lot and walked through the red double doors of McKinley High School. The brightly lit hall was packed with chattering students getting ready for the first period of the day. The minute she walked in, the bustling hall hushed into a few whispers. Two hundred pairs of eyes were on her. Mercedes noticed the sudden change and nervously pushed her way through the crowd.

"Whore!" she heard someone cough. There were snickers at the cruel comment and Mercedes quickened her pace. Her locker, even though it was only a few feet away, felt like it was across the Grand Canyon.

She didn't know what the fuck was going on until Sugar Motta and Tina Cohen-Chang ran up to her, distressed looks on their faces. Sugar nearly fell flat on her flat ass from running in her new Jimmy Choo heels while Tina nearly slipped from running in her trusty steel toed boots.

Sugar skipped her usual cheerful greeting and crossed her hands across her chest. "Is it true?" she asked dubiously.

"What's true?" Mercedes retorted.

"It's all over Facebook Cedes!" Tina added, a hand on her hip.

"Back the fuck up with the vagueness. What are you even talking about?"

Tina took an uneasy breath and spilled her guts out. "Shane claims that you slept with Azimio and Matt behind his back! And they admitted it!"

Her heart stopped and, right then and there, she could've died.

"What?!"

"Is it true?" Sugar pressed curiously.

"Of course not! He's lying!"

Tina let out a sigh of relief and gave Mercedes a meek smile. "I thought so. It didn't seem like you."

Her mistake was not checking her Facebook newsfeed. Usually that's where nasty rumors swirl before they hit the halls of McKinley. She could've dispelled the lies before school started, but she was too busy stuffing her face with ice cream.

That was it! She was done with guys, even Ben and Jerry.

For the two months prior to the Christmas trip, Mercedes's life was a living hell. Her ex- boyfriend ruined her once pristine reputation because she wouldn't put out. The only people who believed her was the members of Glee Club, who knew she'd never even took a puff of a cigarette before. She tried confronting Shane about the rumors, but he and his buddies laughed in her face when she was telling him off, which caused her to storm out crying.

She couldn't walk through the halls without an immature football player throwing a handful of Trojan extra-ribbed condoms at her feet. There was this one time when a guy that Mercedes didn't even know existed stopped her during gym. He handed her a plain white shopping bag, a suspicious smirk on his face. From afar, there was this group of boys staring intently at her, trying to stifle their anticipating laughter with straight faces. Mercedes hesitantly pulled out a plush white pillow and stared at it with a confused look. She asked him what the fuck was going on and with a sly grin he said: "I want you to be comfortable for all the time you spend on your back."

Mercedes was too scared to doing anything about it. She tried staying home by faking a cold but her parents wouldn't allow for it, especially because her grades were (irony!) too good. She tried telling Principal Figgins, but he claimed there was no evidence to suspend Shane. Unless someone actually saw Shane spreading lies, which was like trying to see someone spread the Flu, then nothing could be done. So, she turned to the one person she knew would never judge her. Tater-Tots.

There was one day, three weeks before the Christmas trip, when Mercedes was stuffing her face with the baked goodness that were Tater-tots when her luck changed for the better. She was sitting in the very back of the cafe, away from the view of the other kids, listening to an Etta James song she planned to sing at Glee practice. She felt so alone because not one of her Glee friends had the same lunch period as her.

Santana Lopez stormed into the room and to the Diva's table with Brittany Pierce trailing behind her. She was on a mission. Santana grabbed the half eaten plate of Tater-tots and threw them into a nearby garbage can.

"Hey!" Mercedes protested, pulling her headphones out of her ears.

"Why do you let those putos get to you Cedes?" Santana demanded.

Before Mercedes could answer, Santana appointed herself as Mercedes's personal bodyguard with Brittany's company, of course. "You need someone to put those maricones in their fucking places!" was her fiery explanation.

And from then on, Mercedes's situation seemed to get better. Santana and Brittany walked her to class, to lunch, to gym, and to her car every single day. No one dared to even look at Mercedes with Santana by her side. The Latina even took it upon herself to teach Shane a lesson by littering the halls with fake test results that claimed he had Chlamydia. Of course, she got suspended but she still was able to snake her way into the New York trip.

Humiliated, Shane never talked to or of Mercedes again, not that Mercedes cared. Her mind was too focused on whatever magic could happen during her trip to New York.

Back in the present, she just couldn't waste her time entertaining a guy who couldn't stop drooling over her chest, especially because she kind of had a ticking time limit. Sure, there was something between them that was like an eight hundred pound gorilla in the room but doing it with him was definitely NOT part of the plan. Once again, she was a good girl and good girls didn't lose their V cards to a one night stand. If Shane Tinsley, her last boyfriend of almost a year, couldn't get her to put out, then Blondie had no chance.

She rolled her eyes and gave him a scowl. "Screw you," she spat.

That didn't weaken that large, lopsided smile on his flawless face. Instead, it only intensified it and the bastard gave her a suggestive wink. "When and where sweetheart?" was his clever reply.

Caught off guard, her cheeks burned a fire red with embarrassment. She quickly cleared her throat and regained her diva composure. "Whatever Blondie," she muttered dismissively.

Ignoring his looks, her eyes began to wander. That's when she began to notice the brusque stares she and Sam were getting from the actual hotel guests. Everyone, except she and Sam, was dressed in designer clothing from head to toe. Mercedes easily spotted every big name from Manolo Blahnik to Dolce & Gabana. Compared to these people, she and Sam looked like a bunch of street kids. Her yellow blazer was formerly on clearance at The Ralph Lauren outlet and her high top Nikes were less than a hundred dollars. Blondie looked like a wannabe skater boy with tattered jeans and burgundy Chuck Taylors with fraying shoelaces. They definitely didn't belong and, like the hipster assholes from Arlene's, these people stuck their noses up and made it blatantly obvious.

Mercedes spotted a petite young woman staring intently at her and Sam. The woman was sitting cross legged on a nearby silk loveseat, a copy of The Wall Street Journal in her lap. She blended in well with red-soled Louboutins and a Burberry trench coat. There was a scarf wrapped around her head and a pair of black designer sunglasses covering most of her face. Mercedes didn't know why, but this woman gave her the creeps. The way she watched her and Sam so fixedly was as if she was looking right through them. Her crimson colored lips were pursed in a tight scowl.

The short girl quickly tore her eyes away as she and Sam approached the front desk. She hesitantly turned around once more and the mysterious woman was gone without a trace, the newspaper folded neatly on the chair. Mercedes shrugged off the frightening chill that traveled up her spine. She was exhausted, that was all.

Behind the desk, a rail thin young woman with frizzy black hair and doe-eyed blue eyes greeted them with a warm smile. She was wearing a simple black suit that was way too big on her and looked as if it belonged to a very feminine guy. Her name was Monica, according to the nametag that sat crookedly on her left breast, or lack thereof. It only took one quick glance at Sam for Monica's small fox-like face to become flushed with color. The poor girl began to grin like a lovesick idiot as she nervously tucked a long strand of black hair behind her ear.

Oh brother.

"Welcome to the Plaza Hotel. How may I help you?" Monica squeaked anxiously. Her blue eyes were glued on Sam as if he was the only one standing there, maybe in a male g-string if she were the kinky type. Sam gave the girl a toothy grin and Mercedes was sure Monica was going faint by the way her ear-to-ear smile began to falter. Sam seemed unfazed by her fan girl demeanor. He probably got this kind of reaction all the time.

"Have you seen a brunette girl in a black dress and four older boys?" Sam asked.

"One of the boys had small knots showing in his trashy indie jeans," Mercedes added with an eye roll.

At first, Monica ignored Sam's question. She was too busy eye humping him, her eyes drifting from his biceps, to his large red lips, and finally to his disheveled pale blond hair. Apparently, Finn Hudson wasn't the only one who had a fan base.

Mercedes impatiently slammed her hand on the service bell that sat on the mahogany desk. Frightened, Monica jumped slightly, dragged out of an oncoming eyegasm.

"Oh yes…a group like that checked in about an hour ago," she stammered. She tried her best to make eye contact without bursting into a nervous sweat.

He leaned in closer. "Can you tell me what room number?" Sam asked softly. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively that made Monica giggle like a schoolgirl.

"It's against hotel policy but I can let you slide right through…" Monica swallowed. Mercedes couldn't help but crack up. That girl just barely caught herself from saying something uber embarrassing.

Monica turned to her computer and typed quickly with her bony fingers. Within seconds, she gave them an answer. "They booked the presidential suite under a… Burt Hummel."

"Great," replied Sam with a thankful smile. He gave Monica a quick "thank you" and he sped off towards the elevators. Mercedes trailed behind him, a confused look on her face.

"Who's Burt Hummel?" she wondered.

She followed Sam into a gold plated elevator. "Finn's Wall Street CEO Stepdad," Sam replied.

Before Mercedes could ask any more questions, Sam explained that Finn loathed his cocksucker Stepdad because he was the reason Finn lost his multimillion dollar trust fund. Burt Hummel was the one who convinced Finn's mother to cut Finn off after he was arrested and kicked out of Dartmouth. According to Sam, Finn was known to pry his way through Burt's vast amount of wealth by pulling stupid stunts like this. Once, Finn faked a really bad cocaine addiction so that Burt, out of guilt, paid thousands to send Finn to one of the best and most expensive rehab centers on the East Coast.

Mercedes shook her head in disbelief as the elevator carried them up to the top floor. Finn was not only hot but a conniving asshole. "That's fucked up."

"He's a fucking badass," Sam added. The elevator came to a calm stop and the doors parted, letting them through. Like the lobby, the long hallway was brightly lit and smelt of freshly picked flowers. The walls were a soft cream color and the floor was covered in a never ending maroon Persian rug. They walked through the deserted corridor until they reached the double door entrance of the presidential suite. Surprisingly, the door was somewhat ajar and the yellow glow of the room spilled onto the maroon carpet. There was no ruckus coming for inside and the two teenagers exchanged a hopeful look.

Mercedes pushed the door open and hesitantly wandered inside, followed by Sam. The presidential suite was enormous in size and looked very old money vintage with its classic silk furniture, crystal chandelier, and ivory colored carpet. Yet, she gasped because that what Mercedes imagined that it used to look like. The place was completely trashed and ransacked from ceiling to floor. It was like stepping into the remnants of an end of the world celebration. The white carpet was ruined with broken vodka bottles, crushed beer cans, half finished cigarettes, and large irregular shaped stains. There were chairs upturned, their cushions ripped to shreds. The walls were splattered with food, pools of ketchup and mustard slowly trickling down the once pristine walls.

Mercedes nearly fainted, holding onto Sam's rock hard shoulder for support, at the sight of a Trojan extra large condom wrapper and a pair of white cotton panties that sat innocently beside it.

"Holy shit," Mercedes managed to say.

Rachel and Finn, the object of her fantasies, had sex! This wasn't the secret show at all. This was an opportunity for Finn to fuck yet another groupie while racking up a hefty hotel damages bill under his stepdad's name. Her blood began to boil.

Despite her and Rachel sharing a mutual hatred for each other, Mercedes wanted to fucking claw that man whore's eyes out with her long manicured fingers. How dare that cunt face take advantage of a drunken Rachel? Sure, she looked like a cocktease in that God forsaken dress but that didn't really matter. As far as Mercedes was concerned, Finn Hudson was going to be a dead man with those knots turned inside out.

"Let's get out of here before shit goes down," Sam offered. He started for the door, dragging a stunned and shaking Mercedes along.

"We'll find him and then you could knock his teeth in," the blond assured as he closed the door behind him.

"You better fucking belie…" Mercedes started. But, she was quickly interrupted by someone else.

"Hey!" a deep and intimidating voice suddenly shouted. The duo quickly whipped their heads around and was greeted by the sight of a burly bald man, clad in a security guard uniform, racing towards them. His boisterous and violent steps shook the floor. If this guy got his hands on them, they were definitely going to be blamed for the trashed hotel room. Mercedes wasn't about to go to jail, not after all the shit she was going to face when she got back to the Morningside Inn. Plus, she couldn't let poor Sam go to jail either, especially not with that body. He'd be a quick favorite amongst the other guys.

Sam grabbed the short girl's hand. "Let's go!" he cried. Mercedes could barely keep up as Sam ran at a track star's speed towards the elevator. He slammed his fingers against the down button, cursing aloud with every nano second that passed. The security guard was inches from grabbing Sam by his hood when the elevator swiftly opened. The pair slipped inside, hands still clasped.

"Fuck you," Mercedes spat as the door closed in the man's face. She gave him a sly smirk and a middle finger. She let out a small sigh of relief and wiggled her hand from Sam's grasp.

"Well looks like someone's a bad girl," Sam replied. He raised an eyebrow with curiosity.

"I have my moments."

Sam deviously wiggled his eyebrows. "Will I have the honor of witnessing one of those moments?"

"Do you always have something smart to say?" she retorted

The blond wasn't going down without a fight. "Do you have to wear tight jeans like that?" was his quick rebuttal.

Mercedes watched as his gaze drifted to her skin tight acid washed skinny jeans. His menacing gaze made her feel as if she were standing in front of him with only her underwear on, maybe not even that. The short girl racked her brain for a witty retort but settled for a measly "shut up."

His terrible green eyes were stuck in that stupid gaze. He wasn't smiling and that ridiculous smirk was nonexistent. Without warning, he leaned in and Mercedes could feel her breath sucking in. The bastard was going to kiss her! She was sure of it. She so badly wanted to diss him by shielding her lips with her small hands. Yet, her diva attitude seemed to falter as those cherry red lips inched closer.

Oh fuck!

Those lips probably tasted like cherries.

She hated herself as she puckered her lips in anticipation for his kiss. He was going to kiss her with those freak of nature lips!

As if on cue, the elevator doors opened and they returned to the bustle of the hotel lobby. He wordlessly laced his long fingers through hers. She quietly watched her hand entwined with his. Her fingers tingled as she undoubtedly felt the sparks reverberating through her body. A tsunami of butterflies began to fly wildly in the pit of her stomach. If she felt fireworks just by just holding his hand, imagine doing anything else! She'd die before even reaching first base.

There was more to this guy than Mercedes was willing to admit. Sure, he was a smart mouthed asshole who made his horniness a clear fact. But, she found herself admiring him more than hating him and his cheeky remarks.

"Whatever you want," she whispered, smiling at him. She told herself that she hated guys, but, damn, she was doing a bad job believing it.