Seven

Jack's Bar & Grill

Corner of Duane & Church

TriBeCa

The Subway platform was quiet and deserted, except for a couple of bums and a few regular people. Mercedes bit her lip as she looked longingly at Sam. Sure, he annoyed the fuck out of her with his smart mouth and dirty jokes. But in a weird way, he was super adorable and she almost pissed her pants when he attempted to kiss her, not once but twice. Then and there, Mercedes decided that she would finally put on her big girl panties and kiss Sam herself. After all, this was 2012 and girls were very well allowed to make the first move, even if it wasn't the first. She wanted nothing to do with guys, but Sam was the only exception.

Suddenly, she froze as she spotted a mysterious figure across the tracks through the corner of her eyes. The sound of heels clicking against concrete disturbed the pin drop silence and compelled Mercedes to sneak a glance. The short girl gasped at the sight of long tanned legs clad in those familiar red-soled Louboutins from the Plaza Hotel. There was no mistaking it. It was that creepy woman! Mercedes could swear that the woman looked right at her through those sunglasses, her crimson colored lips pursed in a tight scowl.

Before Mercedes could say anything or even blink, there was a flash of gray as a train zoomed past the woman. Within an instant, she was gone, just like that.

The diva quickly shrugged her shoulders, shaking off the incident like a piece of lint. She was a small step away from freaking the fuck out with this James Bond meets Jason Bourne shit. There was no way that that woman was following her and Sam. Why would that even be the case? Besides, what would she sound like telling Sam that they were being stalked? Like a psycho and paranoid grockle, that's what!

Mercedes heard Sam's soft laugh and jumped at least a foot as she felt Sam abruptly tapping her on the shoulder.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked concerned. His iPhone was clasped in his hands.

"Oh Nothing," said Mercedes dismissively. She hid her nervousness with a smile. That's when she took one step towards Sam and pulled him close by his sweater. This was what she wanted to do all night and no mysterious wannabe stalker would get in the way. It was just an innocent kiss was what Mercedes told herself over and over. Yeah, she wasn't the type of girl to cozy up to a guy she barely knew, especially after the whole Shane debacle. Yet, it didn't mean that she was heads over heels in love with the blond, or that she was an easy tramp like Rachel. Besides, it was one night, five more hours and she would be gone from New York. Forever. Life was way too short to not live in the moment.

She gasped at the intoxicating smell of Irish Spring and cigarettes coming from the blond. It was an odd and rugged mix but she somehow loved it. It fit the Sex God very well. Now, all she needed were those freak of nature lips…

"God! You New Yorkers love to stare," Mercedes breathed as she and Sam climbed the steps of the gritty train station. She stuffed her hands further into her jacket, her teeth chattering as the duo was met with the increasingly frigid cold. They were on the lively intersection of Duane and Church, the same place that the two gay guys said the bar would be. Sam, ever the gentlemen, had an arm around the short girl's shoulders. He held her close as if he were protecting her from the cold, even though he himself was wearing a skimpy cotton hoodie. Mercedes nestled closer into the crevice of his side. To any outsider, the two looked like an actual couple dealing with a very bad bout of young and stupid love, not that they were complaining.

The blond looked down at her, his cherry lips even redder by the searing cold. His pale eyebrows furrowed in confusion at her statement. "Where is that coming from?" he wondered curiously with a lopsided grin.

In actuality, Mercedes was itching to say something about all the fucking stares she, and sometimes Sam, were getting throughout the whole night so far. It all started with the dirty looks she got from the hipster/indie drones from Arlene's. So what if she wasn't a part of a granola eating, tree hugging, and chain smoking clique, who convinced the whole entire world that they were cool because of their so-called "avant-garde" style, their love for music and movies that no one's never heard of, and their over usage of the word "pretentious." At least she wasn't a person who complained about Global Warming but drove a Toyota SUV anyways. What a mind fuck that was!

Then, it was the members of the social elite who stuck their plastic noses up at her and her thirty dollar, mustard colored Ralph Lauren blazer and multi-colored Nike dunks. Now, it was two college chicks on the train.

On the train ride to TriBeCa, Mercedes couldn't help but crack a warm smile as Sam's eyes fluttered as he napped. His blond head was nestled snugly on her shoulders, his hands resting in her lap. She found the whole thing absolutely amusing. Wasn't Blondie the one who wanted to "caffeine up" because it was going to be a long night? He fucking dragged her by her collar into Starbucks, buying her bland tasting hot chocolate for five dollars, and there he was, napping on the train. She wanted to wake his ass up by sticking her fingers up his nose. It would've been a funny sight to see but Blondie looked too effing cute when he slept.

The train came to another clamorous stop and the only people who stepped on were two girls wearing matching purple NYU Violets pullover sweaters. They were both texting, and, without looking, sat side by side on the opposite side of the train. One of the girls, a petite Asian with horribly dyed platinum hair, looked up and nudged her friend, a statuesque raven haired girl with perfect white girl skin. They both watched intently as a sleeping Sam cuddled closer to Mercedes. And like a bunch of girls in gym class, they began to whisper among themselves as they stared, not so discreetly, at Mercedes.

"Since when…" the Asian girl started in a loud whisper.

"He's way too effin' hot…" her friend added with envious eyes.

The diva clenched her jaw and tried her very best to ignore the girls and not get up and slap them into next Tuesday and beyond. When it was their stop, Mercedes lightly tapped Sam awake and the blond lazily lifted his head.

"Mmmmm…we're here?" was his reply as he licked his lips.

"Yup," the short girl answered.

As the two got up from their seats, Mercedes quickly and carefully wiped a small sliver of drool off his stubble laden chin. She then placed a peck on his wet lips.

"Yum. Cherries," she remarked with a grin as they strolled off the train. She made sure to give the two green-eyed bitches's a smirk that said: Yup, I'm tapping this fine male ass. The look on their faces made her entire night.

Mercedes shrugged her shoulders, biting her tongue. She could just imagine what Sam would say if she told him the story. He'd never stop teasing her for getting all girlfriend defensive when two girls were giving her the stank eye because they were together, even though they weren't "together" together.

"Nowhere," was what the diva decided to say instead.

Sam raised an eyebrow with a smile and said, "Whatever you say Miss Mercy."

"There it is," Sam announced, pointing to a bar across the street with a black and red awning. He grabbed Mercedes's hand and they crossed the busy intersection of Duane and Church.

Sam ushered Mercedes into the dimly lit bar. It was loud with lively chatter, laughter, and clinking beer bottles. The short girl frowned and tugged at the collar of her jacket. She felt that she was going to melt and not in a good way. It was stuffy from the steaming body heat, the smell of cigarettes, and a terrible mix of every tacky cologne known to man. Her hope faltered just a bit at the sight of an old baseball game being played on the flat screen TVs. She couldn't hear any indie music being played, just the sound of a sportscaster screaming as he called a grand slam homerun. But, the two 'mos seemed pretty confident about this one. Two out of the three brolemics in the band came to this nostril hellhole every other weekend. Maybe, the band dropped by to continue their disappearing act with their so-called fans. Mercedes wasn't going to give up just yet and let that dickhead Finn continue to play cat and mouse with her. It may have worked for his many adoring starfuckers but she was going to win by finding him, Rachel, and The Cosmic Dickheads.

She attempted to wriggle her way through the crowd with Sam's guidance, bouncing from one muscular body to another like a pinball. She wanted to scream a sassy "excuse me" to everyone that she passed but it was way too loud for anyone to hear. Plus, she was a little too fun sized for anyone to even glance at her.

The two finally made it to the bar, which was just as crowded but it gave Mercedes a much needed breath of fresh air. The short girl finally got a chance to crane her neck, scanning the area and people around her. The little wrinkle that she got on her forehead whenever she was confused was in full view because this place was swarming with dudes of all shapes and sizes. It was a full blown sausage fest without any muffins in sight. But, naïve Mercedes from the Midwest didn't think anything of it. After all, it was a sports bar and, last time she checked, guys were the ones who would come to a bar to watch sports, especially if their wives or girlfriends didn't allow it at home. All the guys she knew back home in Lima were diehard sports fans. It couldn't be any different here.

Sam nudged her with his shoulder to get her attention. "Do you want anything?" he politely asked, pointing to the full bar.

"Coke," was her good girl answer.

Sam gave her an incredulous look and cracked a grin. "Would you like some rum with that?" he asked in a teasing fashion.

When the serious look on the short girl's face didn't falter, he gave her an encouraging nod and shouted," C'mon Saint Mercy. Just one drink on me." He wiggled his eyebrows, that trademark GQ smile on his face.

"Aren't they going to card you?" Mercedes challenged matter-of-factly.

Sam nonchalantly reached into his pocket and handed Mercedes his driver's license. "Not with this," he announced with a triumphant grin.

Unlike most people she knew, Sam was actually smiling in his picture, his hair perfectly messy and those lips plump as ever. Almost everyone on the planet had a license picture that looked as if it belonged in a line up to a murder and she was no different, except she looked like a crack head hobo.

Her first picture looked so horrible; with a rat's nest she called a weave and not one speck of makeup on that she "accidently" lost it on a weekend trip to the mall with friends. Of course, she got a fierce tongue lashing from her parents for being irresponsible but, to Mercedes, it was totally worth her using her pseudo guilt look. She took the time to meticulously do her hair and makeup while still maintaining the I-just-got-out-of-bed-and-still-look-this-good look that she obviously screwed up the first time.

On another note, she nearly laughed at how ridiculously unbelievable his fake age was. According to this, he was a whooping twenty-four years old and she was total jailbait being seen with him. God, Sam seemed like he was a sucker for breaking the law. He was such a risk taker and sort of a dare devil, the complete of opposite of her. She was that girl who made slumber parties boring by answering "truth" all the time when playing truth or dare. But, Sam the Blond Sex God brought out the badass inside of her.

But, she nearly burst out into a rage of giggles at his alias name. Was this boy completely shitfaced when he picked it out? Couldn't he have picked a name a bit more boring or less obvious to anyone who didn't live in a cave?

She gave Sam an eyebrow raise, hardly able to contain her chuckles. "Steve Rodgers?"

But, Sam just smiled ear-to-ear with a look of satisfaction glimmering in his eyes. "Cool huh?"

"Seriously Sam? Captain America?" Mercedes asked incredulously. She couldn't decide what was funnier, Sam's complete lack of maturity or the fact that he was a supposed comic book geek, except without the bad acne or clothes picked out by a way too motherly mother. It was weird to think that someone as hot and popular as Sam was into Captain America and The Avengers. Mercedes babysat a kid on her street who was an avid comic book reader. But, unlike Sam, the kid was ten.

"Do you wear Batman footie pajamas to bed Blondie?" Mercedes replied with a grin as she handed Sam the card.

"Very funny. I just like to read that shit while taking a dump," Sam said with his best Mr. Manly Man scoff. "Besides, it's common knowledge that Batman is DC and not Marvel," he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Whatever Grandpa," she replied sarcastically with a knowing smirk. While Sam tried to get the busy bartender to notice him, Mercedes returned to scoping the crowded room for any sign of Berry or a girl in general. To her disappointment, there was still nothing but boys, boys, and more boys. The girls from Glee Club would've certainly loved this.

Mercedes tapped Sam and said in a frustrated voice, "There aren't any girls here."

Sam took a quick glance of the bar and said, "Yeah there is. Over there."

He pointed to a secluded booth in the very back. There sat a fashionably dressed girl with an Apple Martini clasped in her large hands. Her face was caked with makeup, from fake eyelashes galore to shiny pink lips that could second a mirror. She had long glossy black Pocahontas hair that ran to her waist. The girl looked like a typical Barbie doll with a pretty heart-shaped face, a just-came-from-an-exotic-island-that-doesn't-even-exist tan, designer duds, and a perfect itty-bitty waist. To anyone, this girl was strikingly beautiful but Mercedes noticed there was something a little off with her.

For starters, her shoulders were a little too broad for that white halter top and was that Adam's apple she saw?

Mercedes quickly refocused her attention on Sam, who was shouting an order to the burly bartender for two beers with a name that Mercedes had never heard of. The Diva was convinced that Mrs. Amazon Rainforest over yonder was not a hundred percent girl. She'd never seen a drag queen before up close, especially not in a conservative and close minded town like Lima.

Before Mercedes could tell Sam about Ms/Mr. America, Sam handed her an ice cold beer with the name Moosehead. He yelled a polite thank you at the bartender, a clichéd Jersey Shore Guido with a Terry the Tiger tan and biceps that made Mercedes's thighs look like twigs. Terry the Tiger nodded in response and gave Sam a discreet and suggestive wink. Sam, with the attention span of a gnat, didn't notice the wink and turned his attention back to Mercedes.

"Two Martinis dah-ling!" Mercedes heard a guy yell to Terry the Tiger from the other side of the bar. It was super weird, but that was when it all made sense! The Cosmic Slices were definitely not here!

There were no anatomically correct girls in the entire place, but her. (Mr. Pocahontas did not count)

The bartender, along with a few guys were ogling her (ahem) Sam.

This was not a music venue and these people were not here to see the band. This was a gay bar!

Sensing Mercedes's tension, Sam eased closer and nudged her, "What's up?" He took a nonchalant swig of his beer, oblivious to his surroundings.

She put down her drink, turning a shade of green by all the looks Sam was getting without even knowing it. She wanted to get the fuck out of there, not because it was a gay bar, but because Sam was being eaten alive by a swarm of gay eyes.

"Let's go!" she demanded in a scowl.

Sam, with confusion etched on his face and the naivety of a child, gently pulled her back. "What? Why? We didn't even find them yet. Plus, the Giants are on."

Mercedes rolled her eyes. He was such a child and a stereotypical guy at the same time.

She jerked his hand towards her, almost spilling his own drink on him. She didn't want to explain her jealousy, so, praying that he was macho man like the other guys she knew back home, yelled, "Sam! This is a gay bar!"

The music and chatter was so loud that he couldn't hear her pleas. The crowd erupted in cheers as Eli Manning threw the game tying touchdown. He motioned for her to say it again. "What?!"

"This is a gay bar!" she repeated louder.

Once again, Sam inched closer. "Speak up! I can't hear you!"

She threw her hands in the air. Was this guy deaf? Maybe it was all the booze going to his head or the fact that he needed to cut his hair.

"God dammit Blondie! THIS IS A GA…"

Mercedes was midsentence, when a guy slinked his way to Sam's side. He was a Zac Efron look-a-like with black hair in a faux hawk, a spray tan in January, blindingly white teeth, and a black v-neck with jeans. Come to think of it, Fake Efron, while nursing a beer, was stealing glances at Sam all night. At first, Mercedes didn't think much of it. But, now, she wanted that guy to spontaneously combust in flames.

She went to grab for the hood of Sam's sweater, but Fake Efron intervened with a conversation.

"I haven't seen you around. You new?" he asked Sam.

He smirked as Sam gave him a polite smile. Blondie had just fallen into his trap. "Yeah I guess."

"You like it?"

Oblivious Sam shrugged his shoulders and said, "Yeah. Beer and football. A guy's dream."

"This is a great place to meet people," Fake Efron mused, taking a swig of his Heineken.

"It's definitely a bro hangout." Sam agreed.

There was a small silence and Fake Efron nonchalantly slinked closer. "So…have you seen anyone you like?" he said with a suggestive grin.

Sam shook his head. "Nah. There aren't enough girls here."

He motioned over his shoulder to a steaming Mercedes and continued, "Plus, I have my girl that's a…"

Fake Efron put his hand up, interrupting Sam. "You don't have to hide it"

Sam furrowed his golden eyebrows in confusion, the look that said "The fuck?"

"Hide what?"

Fake Efron, like a cheerleader, put a hand on his hip. "I used to be like you…confused…"

Feeling bad for the confused Sam, Mercedes pushed her way into the conversation and glared at her rival. "He doesn't swing that way Fake Efron!"

Unfazed, he stuck his nose up in the air at her. And like a hipster snob, asked, "Who's that?"

"My friend that's a girl." Sam explained innocently.

Fake Efron have Mercedes a quick up-down scan and curtly pursed his lips together. "A fag hag if you ask me," Fake Efron retorted, with a dismissive shrug.

That's it! Mercedes thought and she took a step closer and reached to smack the fake tan off of her rival's plastic face, but Sam stepped into her path. With beer in hand, he blocked her from taking a swing at Fake Efron.

"Chill Mercy!"

He turned to Fake Efron, finally piecing the obvious puzzle together. "No way! Are… you…like gay?"

"Um…hello?" he said in a duh! tone.

"Sam THIS IS A GAY BAR!" Mercedes clarified.

Embarrassed by his stupidity, Sam put down his beer and was ready to leave. "Um…dude…this isn't my scene," he said apologetically, put his hands up in defense.

"Damn straight!" the Diva added.

Not convinced of Sam's straightness, Fake Efron just rolled his eyes. "Yeah…and I'm RuPaul…"

"Seriously! Boobs are my favorite pastime!" Sam blurted, unknowingly causing a few disgusted stares.

Before Fake Efron could say his rebuttal, Sam wiggled his way through the crowd with Mercedes trailing behind him. She didn't even have a chance to school that motherfucker.

Once they were on the street, Sam let out a sigh of relief. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I did! You're just deaf!" she scoffed defensively

They began walking down Duane and Sam abruptly grabbed Mercedes and pulled her close. She couldn't help but grin at him. He was trying to prove his already obvious masculinity. Blondie was definitely no 'mo. One, He was itching for her all night. And Two, a gay guy wouldn't have kissed her the way Blondie did, tongue, teeth, and everything in between.

"So…how many boobs have you played with Sammy boy?"

"Enough to know I'm not gay!"