A/N: Thank you all for the lovely messages and taking the time to read this fic! I'm sorry this didn't come out sooner but I will try my best to update every week! (If homework and stuff don't get in the way that is...) Well here is chapter 2!(It's a short one...)
Disclaimer: I don't own glee...if I did, I would have somehow convinced Dianna Agron to stay on cast for one last season as Santana's love interest instead of Demi Lovato. Sigh.
Chapter Two: Blind Date
Driving into the garage of the abandon warehouse, I hop off my sleek black Ducati and throw my helmet at one of my henchmen who was idly standing off to the side.
"Welcome back from your joyride." Sam walks beside me. "You done running away now?" He nudges me. I groan at him and walk into the common area of our evil lair where most of my crew worked on weapons or spar. I make an attempt to make it up the stairs to my private room at the far end of the building which was secluded from everyone else. But Sam grabs me by the elbow and drags me to the main holographic screen in the middle of the entire room.
"Will you just look at her?" I reluctantly turn to look at the blonde Russian woman on the holographic screen.
"So she's an assassin?" I try to sound interested.
"Yea, she flew in from Prague and is re-locating to the states. We were tipped that she was available." He says seriously in a business matter.
"Where's the meeting?" I chew my nails.
"In 20:00 hours. Meeting at a restaurant called Breadsticks. Trendy, fancy, delicious appetizers, and discreet." Sam stares at me with his green eyes twinkling waiting for me to give him the answer he wants.
"Cancel it." I turn around and briskly move up to the second floor to my private room.
"What!" Sam follows me at the same pace. "You know how much we put into this? It's already set up!"
Once I was on the second floor, I move past my henchmen who were playing pool and drinking at the mini bar that was built. Moving towards my private room, I grab a bottle of Jack Daniels from the bar on the way.
"Santana! You can't keep running away from love!" Sam yells loudly for every one of my crew to hear. Did he have to say that out loud? I flip him off and continue to my room with Sam trailing behind closely.
I flung my door open and stormed inside with Sam pestering me still. "I don't do blind dates Sam!" I throw my arms up.
"It's not a blind date when you've already seen her face!" Yes it is! I know nothing about her besides that she gets a kick out of killing!
Taking a swig of the drink in my hand, I plop down on my king sized bed. "Just tell her I got sick or something."
"San, it's been two years!" He grabs the bottle from my lips. I sit up trying to snatch the bottle back but he holds it up in the air far from my reach. "You have to get out there." I roll my eyes at him. I kick Sam in the shin making him fumble forward in pain, allowing me to grab the alcoholic beverage.
"I am out there…" I retaliate with another large gulp. "Remember, I went out with that hot guitarist in that Indie band! Who kept talking and talking and talking." I stand up and walk over to my dresser.
"No, we went out." He motions between us. "Then you ran off claiming you had food poisoning leaving the poor girl behind with me confused!"
"Yea, well…she talked too much and had too much make-up on." I grumble while flipping through my clothes.
"Stop making excuses, San. I know what you're doing." Once again, he takes the bottle from my grasp. I swear if he does that again I'm going to cut that hand off. Sam stands in front of me with his arms crossed. "You're trying to drown yourself in booze," He waves the bottle at me. "And work yourself in all these little schemes to end the world or to cause chaos just to ignore the emptiness that bitch left in your heart. You were dumped, Santana."
I get annoyed. "I was not dumped!" I stomp my feet.
"You were. And it sucks." He pats my back. "But it's been two years and you spent it wallowing in Antarctica and…"
"It was in Iceland you imbecile and I was not wallowing. I was trying to discover more ways to wreak havoc on the world in an isolated area." I look him in the eye defiantly.
"And," He continues ignoring my statement. "You need to get over it and get back in the game, Santana." Sam puts his hand on my shoulders and looks at me softly. "You can't keep running away because you're afraid to get hurt." He shushes me when I was about to argue. "You have a hot date tonight with a Russian assassin." He wiggles his eyebrows at me. "Now would you please just go on the blind date?" Sam gives me his pout. "Please?"
"God, fine!" I throw my hands up. "I'll go on the stupid blind date!" Sam does a fist pump in the air while I turn back to my clothes, now looking for something to wear tonight.
"Promise me you'll be open?" I crane my head to meet his eyes.
"Open to what?"
"Open to love." Sam says in a sappy tone. He must be hanging out with Blaine and Kurt too much. I roll my eyes at his antics and turn back at the dresser.
What to wear?
Breadsticks 8:10 p.m.
"Would you just go in already?" Sam exasperates. "It will be fine!" I've spent the past ten minutes bickering with Sam in our red mustang about reasons why I shouldn't go on the date and how it could be disastrous.
I lay my forehead on the steering wheel. "Why is it so hard for a bad-ass like me to go on a stupid blind date?" Sam chuckles softly. "I mean I blow up buildings and beat the crap out of people but I can't even bring myself to go on a date!" I groan frustrated at myself.
Sam rubs my back. "Because love isn't easy."
"I'm not aiming for love tonight dude." I sit back up.
"I know. But stuff like this isn't easy. Especially for an emotionally stunted person like you." He teases.
"Hey! I am not—" He puts a finger on my lips and unbuckles my seat-belt.
"Go, Santana. Relax and just have a good time." I nod at him feeling a little bit better and swallow the lump in my throat and exited the vehicle.
Entering the restaurant, I'm leaded to a table with a Russian blonde who is sitting down tapping her fingers impatiently.
"Hey." I scratch the back of my head and sit down. "I'm Santana Diamonds." I hold out my hand trying to be all formal and shit.
She glares at me. "You're late." The assassin says in a thick accent. My hand drops and I internally sigh.
"Uh, yea. Sorry about that." I tap my foot nervously. The conversation doesn't pick up and we're both silent. Despite the place being filled with chatter and smooth jazz in the background, the thick fog of awkwardness hung over us intensely. I hate awkward silences…so much.
The waiter walks over to us in his red blazer. "Would you like to start off with wine ladies?" He asks holding out a bottle.
"Yes. God, yes. Please." I grab the bottle and peer over at the blonde girl who was timidly chewing her nails. "Wine good with you?" I wave the red wine at her.
She looks at me straight in the eye. "Vodka." Ninotchka says thickly.
My eyes widen a little at abrasiveness. "Okay, then." I look up at the waiter who seems to be sharing my expression. "Vodka for the lady please." The waiter nods his head and makes his way back to the kitchen.
Feeling the awkward silence kick in again, I decide to start up a conversation. "So you're an assassin right?" This seems to work since her face lights up.
"Ja'!" She says. Ninotchka is now droning on about her life as an assassin and how she got there. She's talking about maiming and all her grotesque killings. Yup, great conversation right before dinner. Skinning people alive and castrating them. Fantastic.
God, now she's talking about different ways she executes her targets. "So!" I interject quickly taking a large gulp of my glass of wine. "Did you want to be anything else besides an assassin?" I try to steer conversation away from her killing sprees.
Ninotchka goes silent for a moment and taps her chin thoughtfully. "I've always wanted to be a dancer!" She starts doing this weird dance in her seat and I feign interest.
This is the last time I let Sam set me up on a blind date. I feel myself getting extremely uncomfortable at the moment. Ninotchka has stopped the weird dancing in her seat and went back to discussing the proper ways to decapitate someone. I think I'm going to be sick…And then a light bulb goes off in my head. I scrunch my face and clutch my stomach. I make a loud moaning noise that stops Ninotchka in the middle of her story.
"What is wrong?" She asks with concern in her thick Russian accent.
I clutch my stomach and open one eye to look at her. "I-I don't feel too good."
Ninotchka's mouth opens wide then clenches close. "A-re you blowing me?" She grits out.
"What?" I gape at her with wide eyes.
"Off! Are you blowing me off?" She growls and then a flash of pain washes over. "Is it because I am not beautiful enough?"
"What! No!" I try to calm her down. Angry and low self-esteemed assassin is not good. Not good. "I think I just got food poisoning or something." We both start talking over each other. Me trying to calm Ninotchka down and Ninotchka yelling at me about how I'm blowing her off. Which I'm not…not really.
Then in the middle of our "conversation", something drops in my soup from the ceiling. We both go quiet and look curiously at my soup bowl. I use the spoon to scoop up the object that fell in and find a silver bracelet. What the heck? I look up and my mouth goes dry. Oh shit.