Mistakes Have Been Made

Jacob was being quite a little bastard. Mercedes couldn't think of any other way to word it. When Sam was at the comic book shop, if he talked to her for a little while, Jacob would hover and remind her that while Sam didn't work for him, she did. Sam stepped to him one day, but she quickly deescalated it, reminding Sam that she didn't have two jobs, just this one… one that had something very important coming up very soon… Sam backed off, but not before reminding Jacob, "She works for you. You don't own her."

Mercedes decided to sign on for a month to month lease when her lease ended in September, so that she wouldn't have a long obligation. She planned on moving in with Sam, but not until after the upcoming convention. So she had a couple of months or so to get that situated. Now, she credited the bastard behavior of Jacob to nervousness about the convention, until this day…

"Once again, personal matters during company time," he muttered as she laughed into the store phone at something Sam said while they were going over the checklist of certain materials that she asked him to grab on his way to the store to sell his books. They were selling better now that it was known that not only the shop but Sam's comics were going to be featured at a convention with Jeremiah Stapp. And Sam was doing a lot more for the store (things he did not have to do but did to take some stress off of her, which henceforth took some pressure off of the store). So, when she heard Jacob's comment, she quickly snapped at him.

"How so, Jacob?" Mercedes asked. He turned red, obviously he hadn't expected her to hear his whine. "It's just that the ONLY reason that you even get y=to bring your store to this event is because of MY personal connection. While I could throw that in your face, whenever I choose to, I've actually been pretty damn humble about it. ALL I asked was to bring Sam and his work into the fold. In all fairness, I could've taken Sam to Jeremiah and left your Bozo the clown looking gag-fro having ass here. But, I think we're better than that, Jacob. So, here we are, and I've handled everything professionally."

She set the phone down and walked toward Jacob, "Yes, Sam IS my man. Yes, I've got his back. Yes, even though he doesn't work here, he is coming along…" Jacob was backing away as she was coming forth, "And if I should so happen to have to talk to him about something, which WAS pertaining to this store, as a matter of fact, and he happens to make me laugh during that talk," she lifted her finger right to his face and he jumped, thinking she was going to hit him, "You don't get to be a dick about it! You could ask me if I was on a personal call, which it is NOT and I don't get onto personal calls at work – I never have; but don't you come pass by mumbling under your breath and muttering because you're salty about me and Sam, for whatever reason!"

The other employees were watching, shamelessly at the standoff. They were amused and interested in how it would turn out. Jacob stammered, "I, I didn't mean to offend you and I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. But, regardless of our situation and all that I have to be grateful for, which I am, I can't award you special privileges without the appearance of favoritism."

"My fist is going to make an appearance in your mouth if I have to hear one more thing from you about Sam and me. We keep it strictly professional on your time and you aren't going to scold me like I'm some child or subject me to you pouting like you're one!" She stormed off, neglecting the phone in lieu of going to cool off.

Ronnie picked up the phone and said, "Hey, Sam – she went to go cool off. Were you two done with the list? No? Okay, well I can help you check it off, let me grab the clipboard…"

Sam didn't have anything to say to Jacob as he carried the things that he'd picked up for the store, first and Strando and Gavroche accepted them. Sam glanced at Jacob, pretending to be busy doing something, looking like one of those damned James Bond movie extras in the back, just turning knobs for no damn reason. Sam fumed as he went to retrieve his stuff for his table. Mercedes was setting the table down for him when he came back inside. "Hey… what'd he say?"

"Just mumbled that I was being unprofessional again. That was getting old, so I told him about himself and maybe threatened to hit him in the mouth if he kept it up. "

Sam touched her chin and gave her a half smile. "Mermaid, don't say that. If he keeps it up, I'LL hit him." He shrugged when she sputtered out a laugh. "So," he told her, as he looked over his list, "I got all of the stuff you needed and since Jacob decided to be a dick today, here's my receipt." She smiled a little bit, then frowned again. "Hey, you won't be working for this dude for much longer. You've been talking to that producer and let me remind you that you have an appointment with him and his people at the studio when we go to California."

"I haven't forgotten. I just already know from experience that these meetings don't always mean that it's good. There's a lot to be considered, if I am actually going to make it, this time."

"Fergie failed at her first try," he said, and gave her a gentle squeeze on her bicep.

"So did LaTavia Robertson," she said.

"Who?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, precisely," Mercedes said. She sighed and shook her head, "I don't want to get my hopes up, this time. I thought that I was going to set the damn world on fire and I ended up back in Lima. At least LaTavia is about to get her own reality show… like years after the fact…"

"Who is this person?" Sam asked.

"Irrelevant. I was just musing, Sam." She sighed and finally took the receipt as she went into the office, with Sam trailing her. Mercedes sat down at the desk and pulled out a binder to start making the necessary notations so that Sam would be paid back for the items he purchased. "I have a Skype appointment tonight. You're working, right? So, we probably won't see each other at all tonight."

Sam sighed and put his hands in his lap, "I don't go to work until 10…" He started.

"Yeah. I won't get out of here until probably 7:30 and when I get home and wash up and stuff to get ready for my appointment, which is at 8:30 – and who knows how long he'll hold me up. Last time, he kept me for half the night."

"Yeah, I remember," Sam mumbled.

"And you were being grouchy, like that, so I didn't want to bring that to your place," she said. "So… once again, because it wasn't good enough the first time, I probably won't see you tonight."

"Don't be like that," he said, softly.

"He frustrates me," she said.

"Well, he believes in your gift and he wants you to sing for him," Sam said.

"Not him. Jacob. My dad offered me a job at one of his offices, as a receptionist. I've been thinking about it," she said. "I would get paid much more, even though I wouldn't work as many hours, because of how my school schedule is and office hours of a dentist office… but I'll still come out doing better AND have benefits…"

"And… work for your dad. I thought that you didn't like him?" He said.

Her head shot up and her eyes widened, "Why would you think that? He's my DAD! I don't dislike him. That thought never even crossed my mind… ever," she tore the proof of credit out of the invoice book and passed it to him.

"Are you kidding? You've told me that you're terrified of your dad. He's apparently not supportive, mean and hurtful and you haven't had one nice thing to say about him. I think it was reasonable for me to presume that you don't like him," Sam said.

"You presumed so out of pocket," she said, getting up and leaving the office, with him hopping up from the other chair and following her.

"So, tell me something that you like about the guy. Now, I'm curious. All this time, I thought he as the man that you expected to have your back the most who shot down your dreams and when you failed, made you feel like shit with an I told you so, instead of an Its okay."

"It isn't okay. It wasn't. He did tell me so. There's nothing wrong with being right about something, even if it's something that hurts somebody."

"No, there's nothing wrong with being right, but there's something wrong with being a dick about it," Sam said.

She turned on him, "Did you just call my dad a dick?"

"I said that he was being a dick," he corrected.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore, but if I did and we were going to continue talking – you under no circumstances are excused with calling my dad a dick," she said, heading back to the salesfloor.

"I said he was being a dick," Sam repeated, muttering.

"I mean, who does that?" Mercedes wondered, as she lied in bed, talking to Quinn on the phone.

"This sounds like a lot of stress talk," Quinn commented.

"Duh, Quinn. If it was simple gab, I would've called Santana. You're my stress call girlfriend."

"Ugh! Rude."

"And my good news girlfriend, though!" Mercedes quickly added. "You're the first person that I called about that producer."

"And how is that going? Because talking about how your boss and your boyfriend are driving you nuts isn't how I want to go to bed tonight," Quinn said.

"I know, Q. I just don't ever know what to do with all of this. Sometimes, I just need to vent. The thing with the producer is going alright. We Skype a lot and talk about possibilities and plans, but I won't know anything for sure until I can get into that studio and meet the people he's been telling me about. And even then, in this business, one false move and you can end your ass right back in Lima, Ohio. I feel like I should be drinking."

"Don't drink. Sing. Take these emotions and put them into song, or sing a song that reflects how you're feeling. Record it, like you've been doing and release it, as always. That's what you should do every time that you're feeling discouraged or something. If you sing and listen to yourself, you'll be reminded at how much you should be going for it."

"I hate how much I love you," Mercedes told her.

"I do too," Quinn said.

"Alright. Go to sleep, Q."

"Goodnight," Quinn said.

Mercedes set up her camera, cleared her throat and began to sing, "She's been down and out. She's been wrote about. She's been talked about, constantly…" By the time that Mercedes got to the end of Take Me As I Am by Mary J. Blige, she was good to go. Quinn was so smart. She posted her video and put her equipment away to go to bed.

Sam wasn't sure if he and Mercedes were doing good today, or not. They seemed to be up and down lately. To be exact, since she started talking to that producer. Sam didn't want to jump the gun about anything, but he was feeling a little bit shunned and he was getting pretty jealous over the guy. Sam didn't want to be that person. He didn't want to do that. He wanted things to be alright between them and when they weren't, he didn't want to be paranoid. But, he kind of was…

He texted her to tell her that he hoped her meeting went well and she never replied. She knew how he felt about her replying, even if all she said was "Ok," at least he would know that she at least knew that he was thinking about her enough to text. -Dustin came strutting out of the VIP room, patting himself with a towel and tossed it towards Sam. Sam ducked and the towel grazed him, but didn't land on him as he grimaced at Dustin. "Lighten up, sweet cheeks. It's just a little sweat."

"It's a lot of sweat. A lot of man stripping sweat and I have enough of my own of that without you tossing yours over here."

"Trouble in paradise?" Dustin asked, to which Sam looked at him shocked and impressed and annoyed all rolled into one. "You seem to forget that I worked with kids for a while," Dustin said. "I mean, I guess you aren't a kid, now, but hell – compared to me…" he shrugged. "I could always tell when the kids were having love battles."

"Uh huh. Well, I'm not," Sam said. Technically, he wasn't.

"You and her are having some kind of problems. Either that or the high has ended. You aren't glowing. You aren't bouncing. You aren't even smiling. You're sulking. Your broody. You haven't been invited into the room all night long…"

"I hate doing this shit, Dustin. You know what I mean?" Sam asked.

"Absolutely… not. I love my job. I make more money in one night than I did in a week as a teacher and the fact that I was a teacher before gives me a boost in popularity. I have former students come in and tell me how much they had a crush on me when they were at Carmel, then pay me to fulfill their school girl fantasies… Why the hell would I hate doing this?"

"We're real people, Dustin. We aren't here to just be somebody's fantasies," Sam complained.

"No, we aren't here to JUST be somebody's fantasies. I'm somebody's fantasy when I enter that room. I'm somebody's fantasy when I step onto the stage. When I leave here, I become the real me and I stay that person until its fantasy time. I'm him right now, telling you to chill out and stop taking things so personally." Dustin waved the bartender over, bought a couple of drinks and slid one to Sam. "To… chilling the hell out."

"To getting the hell out of this place," Sam corrected and clanked the shot glasses together before shooting his. "I'm not gonna last much longer here, dude. I don't care if I have to go back to being broke or go into my savings. I can't hack it here anymore."

"Do what you gotta do. If you leave, my funds'll double, so I support this idea of yours," Dustin said with a shrug. Sam shook his head and went to prepare to take the stage.

She was feeling fantastic! Nobody better not change that, or that would be there ass today. That cover of Take Me As I Am was BLOWING UP, and she was floating on air about all the online love that she was receiving. She'd have to buy Quinn cupcakes or something. Sam texted her when he got off… he was upset. He didn't say it, but she could always tell, even in texts… But, hell, he seemed upset most of the time, now. So, she promised to come over in the morning and she was heading up to his place, at the moment.

When she got to the door, he opened it, shirtless and tired looking. "Sam?"

"Couldn't sleep," he said and pulled her in to hold him. She did, confused as to why he was so… down…

"Do you need anything?" She asked.

"I need you," he told her and looked at her with a smile. She couldn't help but to smile back as he took her hand and led her inside. Maurice was in his cage, swinging on his little swing that she picked out for him for his birthday. When he noticed her, he jumped off and held onto the bars, making noises. "Nope," Sam told him, pointing a finger at him, "She's all mine today, Space Cowboy." Maurice pouted a bit, but returned to his swing.

"I swear, he understands everything that you say," she said. "He never understands when I tell him no."

"He understands. He just doesn't respect you, which I think he's proven by being a groping lil' pervert."

"Learned behavior, I think," she teased.

"Mmm hmm… we'll see how much it bothers you in a lil' bit," he said, throwing her a daring look and raising an eyebrow. She smiled brightly and practically ran to the bedroom. "Mmm hmm, that's what I thought," Sam said, chuckling as he followed her in and shut the door. "Your favorite pancakes for breakfast?"

"Mermaid's pretty hungry," she said and licked her lips. She sat down on the bed and reached for him. When he came to her, she slid her hands up his chest, "I want an appetizer. Why don't you dance for me?" She said and bit her lip… then immediately regretted it when Sam glared down at her and backed away.

"Dance for you?" He repeated.

She shrugged and said, "I thought it'd be good foreplay. You obviously know how to do it. You get paid to do it five nights a week…"

"Yeah. I get paid to do it. I don't bring it home," he said.

She threw her hands up in the air and said, "Okay, fine, hell. Why waste that on me when you have horny vixens to share it with all the time." Sam clenched his fists and stepped back. She was pissing him off, now; but she was pissed off, too. She got up, "Just, get some rest. I have to go." He grabbed her and stopped her from leaving. "Sam…" Her voice was warning.

"No, you want it. I'll give it to you," he said and sat her down.

"No, don't waste it on me."

"No – you asked for it. It's only right, right? I mean, fuck how I feel about it. You KNOW that I hate doing that shit, but if it entertains you, who the fuck cares?" He snapped.

"Yeah, because you can tough it out when you're out there, but you can't bring yourself to even give your girlfriend, who you supposedly love even a sneak peak at it, while every horny bitch in the area can see it whenever she wants, for the right price!" Sam's face reddened, but he didn't respond. He started dancing in front of her. "Stop it," she said, not in the mood. But he wouldn't stop, "Cut it out, Sam!" She yelled.

"RIGHT! Because MY body is for you to command, however the hell you wish to!" He roared back at her.

"I thought that it would be alright, since it's ME! I thought that you would WANT to do it, that it would be different… special… SHIT!" She got up and practically ran out of the door, eyes filling up with tears, but Sam caught her by the wrist and she shook her head, "No, no… I'm just going to leave before I do more damage."

"No… Mermaid…" Sam was shaking as he pulled her in and hugged her, "I'm sorry, Babe. I had a rough night at work and when you said to dance, I snapped. I shouldn't have taken it that way. I see what you meant – you thought it would be alright if it was you. I guess it should be… I just… I don't know. I hate it so much it just kinda feels like I might be tainting us if I brought that in here."

"It wouldn't have. It would have been beautiful and special, because we're in love… but now… I don't even want to talk about it anymore and if that place makes you feel THIS bad, Sam… you really need to get out of there, ASAP." Sam nodded and wiped her face. "But, I definitely shouldn't have said what I said to you. I hate that I did that. It's like… I turned into my parents for a moment. I was hurt, so I attacked you and we can't do that to each other, Sam. We can't fight about things this way and blow up on each other. I feel like we've been having problems and I can't pinpoint them." She bit her lip.

"Your friends. Your parents. My job…" he said.

"My friends and my parents? You hardly see my friends and I never bring you aroun my parents."

"This is what I mean. We can't even have a discussion about this," he said.

"If the discussion is you saying that all of our problems are on my end…" She started.

"That's not what I said, Mermaid. Santana and Sugar are hateful towards me and you excuse it, but if I even so much as mention a problem with them, you're ready to bite my head off."

"You misunderstand them, at times," she excused, yet again. "And I tell them about themselves anytime that they have anything to say about you. I have your back, Sam and when you tell me that I don't that hurts my feelings."

He sighed and shook his head. "Okay. Nevermind. Let's just go get some real breakfast. I need to eat."

"I am going to make an effort to do better with the damage control of Santana and Sugar's shit… But, I can tell you now that they're like that with everybody. They're like that with Puck. They're like that with Blaine."

"They aren't like that with Artie. They aren't like that with Mike or Kurt…"

"They LIKE them."

"Why don't they like Blaine? Or Puck? Or me?" He asked.

"I think that Sugar likes Blaine, but Santana doesn't, so he just kinda gets the shit. Puck should be self explanatory…"

"He took a girl with downs syndrome to the prom in a homemade crown because she didn't win prom queen. He's a good guy, even though he can be stupid, sometimes."

"I like Puck, just fine, Sam," she said.

"And what about me?" He asked.

"If you have to ask…"

"No, why do they dislike me?" Sam clarified. She shrugged her shoulders. "I haven't done anything, have I? I mean, they acted that way before we even really got together, but I don't know when I'm upsetting you."

"I wouldn't tell them, if you did upset me. Hell to the no… Sam… don't worry about that. I love you…" She stroked the hairs on the back of his neck, as he drove.

"I want to quit my job."

"Then, you should."

"We're about to move in together. I can't do it right now," he said, miserably.

"We don't have to…" he gave her a look that silenced her. "Sam, if us living together is going to be the way that you've been lately, I don't even want to do it."

He sighed, "I won't let that happen again, Babe. I promise."

"You PROMISE? Because I take promises very seriously, Sam."

"So do I. I love you, Mermaid." She smiled and sat back, in the seat.

They were in line, ordering, when Sam's hands kept touching her hind parts and she giggled, playfully telling him to stop. "It's reflexive! I seriously don't realize that I'm doing it until you say something!" He told her. They laughed, they waited, they grabbed their bags and as they were about to head out, Mercedes froze in place and her eyes went wide. Sam turned to see Milzie, sitting down at one of the tables and a darker, bald man seated with her. "Hi, Milzie," Sam said, and nodded once at the man. The man was looking right at Mercedes and she looked completely terrified. "You must be Mercedes' dad."

"Mercedes, who is this person speaking to me without being properly introduced?" The man asked, not even glancing Sam's way.

"You're Quinn's friend, aren't you? You were at the party…" Milzie said, squinting her eyes in warning at Mercedes.

Mercedes found her breath and managed to quickly push out, "Dad, this is my friend, Sam. Sam, this is my dad, Dr. Bishop Jones."

Sam didn't too much care for that "friend" title, but the fear on Mercedes' face helped him not to get too angry about it. He extended a hand and said, "Nice to meet you, Dr. Jones."

"Is that the same hand that you shamelessly pawed my daughter in a well crowded public place with?" He asked, still looking at Mercedes. Sam retrieved his hand and frowned. "That's not behavior becoming of friends," he said. "But, why don't the two of you have a seat and we get better acquainted?" Mercedes immediately sat down, without question. Sam tilted his head and joined her, giving her a questioning look. She was shaking. Why the hell was she so afraid of her own dad? He supposed he would find out while they were "getting acquainted."