October15, 2022 (Saturday)
Tonight, Mercedes was giving a performance at the MTV VMAs, singing the song that not only won her the Grammy, but also got her nominated for three moon men that evening—best female artist, Best R&B Video, Best Female Video and Video of the Year. The song she had written and later had produced and created as a single had been a song she had written in the wake of the senior Mrs. Evans' battle with cancer. Neither she nor Sam publicized his mother's illness but the song was Mercedes' way of responding to it all, and letting the man she loved know that she was here for him. And while Sam had not joined her in the actual video, a different actor depicted the array of emotions Sam expressed through the ordeal while Mercedes sang out to him. The uplifting melody coupled with the intense silent portrayal from the actor created a powerful video for an already strong and memorable song.
Now, just over a year since the video's premiere, the singer was on her way to perform the song and potentially be awarded for it. Mercedes repeatedly smoothed out the fabric of her plum flutter-sleeved pleated dress. She had adorned it with a wide, golden belt—matching her equally golden shoes and jewelry—to help conceal her forming bump. Four months into her pregnancy and it started to become difficult to hide her fertile state. Rumors were already plastered on the tabloids but thus far, she and Sam had only confirmed the pregnancy to their family and close friends.
She and Sam were riding in the back of a limousine along with Noah Puckerman, who had flown in to visit them the night before. The married couple invited him along, knowing that he had never gone to an awards show with them in the past and would likely have a great time before his approaching deployment. Opting out of his uniform dress blues for the occasion, he chose the less formal route of jeans and a black, partially buttoned dress shirt.
Sam, who was in equally the casual "jeans and a shirt" garb but added a leather jacket, sucked his Marine buddy into a debate over whether or not the video game, Street Fighter, could ever be made into a decent live action film.
"I'm telling you, it can't be done!" insisted Puck.
Sam shook his head, "I dunno man. If Capcom could get a decent director, I think it could."
"Pft, please. Look at the failed attempts from when we were kids. The only good ones were the animated movies. They need to just quit trying with the live action crap fest."
"Or just get the right director to do it! Michael Bay could—"
Puck put his hand up, "Let me stop you right there, bro. Michael Bay did alright with Transformers. I'll give him that. But are you forgetting the train wreck of an attempt he made on Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? He lost huge director's points with me on that. Aliens instead of mutants? Bullshit. You can't tamper with one of the coolest cartoons known to man like that."
Sam wanted to argue further but he didn't for two reasons; one was that he agreed with the failure of the Ninja Turtles reboot. The other was that he caught Mercedes' unnerved eye and initially assumed she was exasperated with the movie banter. He frowned apologetically and mumbled, "Sorry, Benz."
Mercedes—who had been staring out one of the tinted windows—snapped out of her thoughts and looked at him and Puck, "For what?"
"Come on, 'Cedes, we know comic books and stuff aren't your thing."
She shrugged, "I don't mind them a little bit now. Sam kinda got me into a few, but I still don't know why you're apologizing to me. I wasn't listening to you guys."
Sam and Puck exchanged glances and then looked back to her. The blond reached across the seat to take her hand, "Are you feeling okay?"
Mercedes nodded and placed a hand over her belted stomach. She knew what he was referring to. "I'm fine. Just nervous."
"What gives with you guys not just telling everyone?" asked a brash Puck. He stretched out on the limo's side bench while adding, "They're gonna figure it out when you start looking like you stuffed a dodgeball under your shirt."
Sam, who was sitting within hitting range of his friend, opted for kicking the Marine in the shin instead. He privately relished in brief satisfaction when Puck glared at him, but when he returned his attention to his wife. Mercedes was glaring at Puck with vastly larger ferocity.
Mercedes addressed him in the most direct way possible. Her voice hadn't raised but it held all the attitude and pointed tone she needed to project. "Let me explain something to you Puck. First of all, when a lady is pregnant, you don't refer to her babies or stomach as a dodgeball unless you wanna get cut. Okay? And second, Sam and I have our reasons for keeping this on the D.L. and that's all you need to know."
She finished by folding her arms across her chest as though she were waiting for him to argue what she said. Her gaze flickered to Sam and his expression made her steeled features falter into confusion. His own eyes had fallen to the floor as though she had said something shameful. Parallel tracks appeared between Mercedes' brows then. "What?"
Puck's brows were nearly to his peach fuzz hairline as he asked, "Did I just hear you say babies?" His lips parted in wonder.
Mercedes' lips snapped shut and her eyes bugged. As soon as she recalled her sass-riddled rant in her mind, her hands cupped to her flushing face.
To that, Puck snickered and threw a playful sucker punch in Sam's shoulder, "Atta boy, Sam!" He grinned when the blond's cheeks turned red and then asked, "So how many buns did you put in Mama 'Cedes' oven?"
Biting on his lip, Sam raised up his hand in resemblance to a victory "V".
"Awwww two Trouty Mouthed divas? Congrats you two!"
"Thanks Puck," muttered the singer. "Keep it to yourself though or I will kill you." Mercedes shook her head at the Marine and finally lowered her hands from her face to look at her husband. "Why are you smiling, Sam?"
He puckered his lips and returned her wary gaze, "…Do you want the truth?"
She dipped her chin to stare at him meaningfully, "Of course I want the truth!"
Fighting his smile—and losing—Sam told her, "Well because…I wasn't the one who spilled the beans this time."
She threw her hands up and rolled her eyes, "Well hooray for you, Evans!" From there, she made to swat him in the back of the head but missed when he ducked.
"So you still haven't answered my question," Puck chimed back in. "Why are you guys keeping it a secret? I always thought that was stupid when celebs would do that crap. If there's nothing to hide then why hide it?"
"Because," retorted Mercedes, "We wanted to tell our friends and family first, before the media loses their mind over the news. It's nice to be sought after and all, but only to an extent. They're hecka nosey."
"Hecka?" mocked Puck. "Boy you two really have been in California too long. But anyway, I guess so. Still, you might as well get on with telling people. I saw the magazines in the stores and they're already on to you. Plus if you're carrying twins you're gonna blow up a lot sooner than if you were just carrying one kid."
Sam glanced at Mercedes with a look that said, "He's right, you know…" and Mercedes seemed to silently communicate back, "I know."
With a sigh, she said, "We had other reasons for not busting out the news sooner but…I don't think it'd hurt for us to tell our friends at least that we're having twins."
"Yeah, our parents and siblings already know about the twins," said Sam to Puck, "But you're the first of our friends to know."
Puck waved them off while helping himself to a beer, "I'm not gonna spill the beans. What's the sex of the rugrats though?"
Keeping her hands rested over her belly, Mercedes smiled softly, "We don't know yet."
"You gonna wait and be surprised, or what?"
Sam chuckled, "Are you kidding me? You really think either of us could hold out when we could know ahead of time? No, Mercedes has an appointment next week and her doctor said we might be able to find out then."
"Plus, neither of us can keep a secret apparently," Mercedes reluctantly added. "So after we find out, we'll let our families and friends know."
"Well Mama 'Cedes," Puck raised his Heineken bottle with a smirk, "Here's to hoping you birth some boys first."
"Why boys?" Mercedes inquired as he took a swig of his beer.
Lowering the bottle from his lips, Puck replied while bumping his knee with Sam's, "This guy would turn into putty with girls for his first born!"
Mercedes giggled profusely. Puck smirked unapologetically. And Sam pursed his lips but his bright pink face affirmed his friend's accusation.
The MTV VMAs ended up being another fun awards night. Puck, Sam, and Mercedes sat near an aisle beside Sean Kingston and his entourage. Of the three awards Mercedes was nominated for, she picked up two new moon men—Best Female Video and Best R&B Video. Her performance was slated towards the middle of the event. A large yet ordinary bed had been placed on the stage, where Mercedes sat through the entirety of her performance. But as she sat there, a small team of professional male dancers joined her on the stage—each of them performing choreographed dances intended to reflect an emotion. One was sharp, snappy and aggressive; another was fluid and restless. The third was constant performing in circles. At least one of them had always been in motion was Mercedes sang.
She received applause at the end of her performance; and after leaving the stage and having herself relieved of stage hands, she returned to her seat for the rest of the show. Initially she'd planned to stick out the night for at least an hour following the show, but the desire to sleep became more desirable as her pregnancy progressed. Now the proud recipient of two more moon men, Mercedes slipped happily into the limo back home, all the while avoiding paparazzi inquiries about whether or not the pregnancy rumors were true.
The trio returned to the Beverly Hills condo and gradually readied themselves for bed. Mercedes felt her nightgowns beginning to wear tight around her middle, so she started wearing sleep shirts and boxer shorts to bed. She wandered out to the living to put her awards in an oak curio cabinet; they joined the plethora of other awards, framed certificates and plaques she and Sam had received over the years.
When her hands were free again, Mercedes took a seat on one of the couches in patient preparation for hers and Sam's new nightly routine. Her hands rubbed slow circles over her bump, and when Sam strode into the room, she looked up at him and smiled. Ever since the first ultrasound appointment—also the day they found out they were having twins—Sam had taken to singing or talking to his unborn children nearly every night before bed. Mercedes adored it, sometimes to the point of tears, mostly because Sam didn't sing that often anymore unless it was work-related. But when she could hold herself together, she would join him in singing to their babies.
"Hey show-off, put a shirt on," jeered Puck as he emerged from the hallway in a wife beater and sweats. He shook his head at his blond buddy, who was slinging a tan and black Starcaster over his bare shoulder, and plopped down in one of the cushioned chairs.
Sam quickly retorted with a smirk as his friend, "Hey maggot, you're in my house. I get to wear whatever I want."
"By the way, I'm a little offended you two haven't put my wedding present to use yet," criticized Puck.
Sam's brows furrowed but he quickly recalled and shook his head, smiling, "No not yet."
"Apparently you don't need it to get your freak on though, huh?"
Mercedes shook an amused face at Puck while Sam merely grinned and shrugged. After filling Puck in on what they were about to do, Sam nodded toward the curio cabinet while telling the Marine, "There's another guitar if you wanna join me."
Puck smirked and pushed himself up and out of the chair. "Eh, why not? I haven't played in a while." As he neared the cabinet and reached for the sleek black Sunburst, he asked, "What song are you doing?"
"'My Wish' by Rascal Flatts. You know it?"
"Yeah," replied Puck. He settled in on the second couch, rather than returning to the chair and strummed a few notes to check the key with Sam, and then started out strumming the first few would-be piano notes to the song.
Sam joined in on the Starcaster; Mercedes crooned a few "Oooo"s before he sang, "I hope the days come easy and the moments pass slow and each road leads you where you wanna go. And if you're faced with a choice and you have to choose, I hope you choose the one that means the most to you."
Puck picked up the next few lines, "And if one door opens to another door closed I hope you keep on walking 'til you find a window. If it's cold outside show the world the warmth of your smile."
Together, the friends harmonized, "But more than anything, more than anything… My wish for you is that this life becomes all that you wanted to—your dreams stay big, your worries stay small. You never need to carry more than you can hold. And while you're out there gettin' where you're gettin' to, I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same thiiiings too. Yeah thiiiiis…"
"…Is myyy wish…" Sam sang alone.
When Mercedes wasn't mouthing along to the lyrics that she did know, she was beaming a serene smile at Sam and Puck. The two men strummed along and Sam sang, "I hope you never look back but you never forget all the ones who loved you and the place you live. I hope you always forgive and you never regret and you help somebody every chance you get."
Again, the two men harmonized, "Oh, you'd find God's grace in every mistake and always give more than you take. But more than anything, yeah more than anything…My wish for you is that this life becomes all that you wanted to—your dreams stay big, your worries stay small. You never need to carry more than you can hold. And while you're out there gettin' where you're gettin' to, I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same thiiiings too. Yeah thiiiiis…"
"…Is myyy wish…"
As Sam sang a slight vocal run to the last lyrics, Mercedes gasped—her eyes flashing wide. Puck, oblivious, kept strumming and singing along but Sam had stopped, becoming instantly alarmed. Even after Mercedes beamed a larger smile at him, he was anxious and confused.
Mercedes reached out to remove one of her husband's hands from his guitar and place it where her hand had once been. And then he felt it; one tiny but unmistakable kick thumped his palm. He couldn't believe it! For that brief moment he had forgotten about singing and strumming; he forgot about anything that might have been weighing on his mind, like work or the consideration of moving into a bigger home because for the first time, he felt a physical bond to one of his children.
Without being aware, Sam was smiling, wider than Mercedes. Everything else started to come back into focus for him as he leaned close to his wife's stomach and softly sang, "I hope you know somebody loves you…may all your dreams stay big…" Veering from the song's actual ending, he sang a'capella, "Yeah this…is my wish…"
Please leave reviews! More is coming soon! For the next chapter? Well, Halloween is just around the corner... ;)