Hey guys so here is an update for you! Enjoy!


What If Vegas pt. 2


Mercedes stepped into the grand suite, taking a deep breath as she surveyed the opulent space. One bedroom had been converted into a wardrobe room filled with racks of glittering outfits, designer shoes, and accessories for her performances. What was supposed to be a one-night-only show celebrating her Grammy nomination had now turned into a two-night event.

She frowned, kicking off her heels as she made her way further inside, only to stop short at the sight of three familiar figures standing near the seating area.

Her mother, Virginia Jones, stood with her arms crossed, looking as sharp and judgmental as ever in her tailored suit. Beside her was her aunt, Roz Washington, who had traded her usual gym attire for a sleek jumpsuit and exuded equal parts authority and sass. Completing the trio was Santana Lopez, Mercedes' ever-efficient publicist, who was scrolling through her phone with an unbothered expression.

Mercedes groaned inwardly. Of course.

Virginia's eyes raked over Mercedes, taking in the oversized shirt that fell to her knees—the only thing she was wearing other than the faint sparkle of the ring on her finger.

"Well, I'll be damned," Virginia said, her tone sharp. "Married, Mercedes?"

Roz raised an eyebrow, tilting her head as she leaned closer to her sister. "Is that… his shirt? Oh, let me take a seat; this is about to be good."

Before Mercedes could get a word in, her mother launched into a tirade. "What were you thinking? You're walking around Vegas wearing a man's shirt with a ring on your finger, and now you're married to a man we didn't even know you serious about? This could ruin you!"

Roz chimed in, her hands on her hips. "She's not lying, sugar. The blogs are already salivating over this story. They can't wait to get the scoop, and Thomas is a grade-A ass, and now you're married! This is scandal gold."

Santana snorted, finally looking up from her phone. "They have been like this for like 20 minutes."

Mercedes sank onto the plush couch beside Santana, running a hand through her hair. "You would think I was sixteen years old," she muttered, leaning her head back. "Y'all do know I'm thirty-two, right?"

Virginia's eyes narrowed. "Don't sass me, Mercedes. I know exactly how old you are. We were starting to think you'd end up an old maid. But this? Marrying that Evans boy?" She wrinkled her nose. "We hate Tom. I still wish you'd have press charges against his ass."

Mercedes sighed, her patience fraying. She had already had this fight with her mother about the money. "Mom, I didn't marry Thomas." She lifted her head, leveling a pointed stare at her mother. I kind of married Sam."

"Sam? Who the hell is Sam?"

There was a beat of silence. Then Roz's eyes widened, and a sly smile spread across her face. "Wait a damn minute. The fine older brother? You married his brother!"

Mercedes blinked, momentarily thrown by her aunt's sudden shift. "…Yes, Aunt Roz."

"Oh, he's good," Roz said with a knowing nod, fanning herself dramatically. "You did good, baby. Real good. That man is delicious. He looks like his daddy, and okay, I mean, I hated his daddy when we were younger, but that didn't stop me from getting a taste!"

Mercedes's jaw dropped at that.

Virginia shot Roz a look. "You're not helping."

Roz shrugged unapologetically. "I'm not tryin' to help! At least she didn't marry that no-good, conniving, dollar-store Bieber. Sam's got a good head on his shoulders and money in the bank. Plus, he's got manners. That's a win in my book. I told you this when she brought Thomas's ass home the first time."

Santana smirked, her sharp eyes glinting. "And for the record, Virginia, this marriage is great for her image. A surprise wedding with America's R & B sweetheart to the poster boy for the working class? The fans are eating it up. It's like a rom-com come to life."

Mercedes groaned, burying her face in her hands. "You're all insane."

Virginia sighed, sitting down beside her daughter and placing a hand on her knee. "Look, baby, we're just worried about you. You've worked too hard to let anyone—anyone—mess this up for you. But if you think staying married is the best thing for your career… I'll support you."

Mercedes looked up, her eyes softening. "I don't know if it is, Mama. But I promise I will do what is best for myself and him."

Virginia studied her for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she nodded. "Alright. But don't think for a second that means we won't be keeping an eye on him. And if he steps out of line—"

Roz cut in with a wide grin. "We'll handle him. By 'handle,' I mean spying like it's season two of Scandal and taking notes from Olivia Pope herself."

"Roz!" Virginia scolded, though her lips twitched with the hint of a smile. "She ain't lying, though."

Santana, who had been quietly scrolling through her phone, smirked. "Honestly, Roz has a point. We've got too much riding on this to leave anything to chance. And if he screws up, I'm more than happy to leak a juicy story to the press."

Mercedes groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Y'all are doing the most. Lord, give me strength."

Virginia chuckled softly, patting her knee. "Strength is good, baby. You're going to need it. But just remember, we've got your back—no matter what."

Mercedes let out a tired laugh, shaking her head. "Why do I feel like y'all are already planning my next crisis?"

Santana raised an eyebrow. "Because we are. Welcome to show business, boo."


Sam stood outside of Mercedes' suite and groaned, looking over at Blaine. "I can't believe I am about to do this."

Blaine looked at him. "Are you sure you're down for this? Your wife is seriously talented; she's here promoting her Grammy nomination."

Sam sighed. "Stacey and Kitty are obsessed with her, but Tom said she refused to meet them."

"That doesn't really sound like her; I heard she sees all her fans, goes to hospitals, and does charity; not seeing the fans of her boyfriend seems out of character."

"Honestly." Sam exhaled. "Up until today, I would not agree with you."

Sam knocked on the door and waited, looking at his friend. "Just don't hit on her manager again."

"Again? That man was sending me all the vibes."

Sebastian opened the door to the suite and grinned at Blaine before acknowledging Sam. "Glad you two can make it."

He stepped aside to let Sam and Blaine in. "Mercedes is getting fitted, but fair warning, her mother, publicist, and Aunt are here…those women don't play."

Sam nodded as they walked further inside. The space buzzed with activity—assistants rushing about, racks of designer clothes lining the walls, and a scarlet-red dress displayed on a mannequin near the window.

Sam adjusted the duffle bag strap on his shoulder as he stepped inside, trying to take it all in. Blaine gave a low whistle, his eyes scanning the luxurious suite. "This looks like something out of Vogue."

Sebastian smirked. "Welcome to Mercedes' world."

Sam was about to respond when Mercedes appeared from one of the bedrooms. She was in her performance outfit, a silver dress that clung to her like a second skin, its shimmering fabric catching the light with every movement. Tassels adorned the hem of the skirt, swaying as she walked. Her hair framed her face in soft waves, and her makeup accentuated her natural beauty.

"Mom, what do you think?" she asked, turning slightly to show the dress from all angles.

Virginia and Roz, standing by the couch with Santana, paused mid-conversation. Virginia's eyes widened, and Roz gave a low whistle of approval.

But it was Sam's reaction that stole the moment. He froze in place, his eyes locked on Mercedes. The sheer elegance of her look and the way the dress highlighted every curve left him momentarily speechless.

"Damn," he muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear.

The room went silent as every head turned toward him.

Mercedes blinked, her gaze finally landing on Sam. For a moment, they just stared at each other. She noticed the duffle bag slung over his shoulder and his casual outfit—jeans and a plain tee that showed off his biceps. He looked effortlessly rugged and handsome, and the realization hit her like a freight train.

Virginia cleared her throat, snapping both of them out of their daze.

Mercedes straightened, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. "Mom, Roz, Santana, this is Sam." She hesitated to find the words. "My husband," she couldn't deny the word tasted foreign on her tongue. "And his friend Blaine."

Sam gave a polite nod, though his eyes lingered on Mercedes. "It's nice to meet you all."

Virginia crossed her arms, her expression skeptical. "So, you're the one we're supposed to believe she married."

Roz stepped forward, circling Sam like a predator sizing up prey. "And you really think you two can pull this off?"

"Roz," Mercedes said, exasperated.

"What? It's a valid question." Roz turned to Virginia. "Do they look like a couple to you?"

Virginia tilted her head, studying them. "Well, they've got the look down, but chemistry is another story."

Roz smirked, giving Sam a once-over. "Girl, I dunno…I don't think I'm buying that this is strictly business. Look at him—he can't keep his eyes off her."

Blaine, trying to defuse the tension, raised his hand. "I, for one, am here for the drama."

Sam sighed, setting his duffle bag down near the couch. "I'm staying here because Sebastian said it would help sell the story." He looked at Virginia and Roz, his tone firm. "I know this situation isn't ideal, but we're doing this for a reason. I'm not here to make trouble."

Virginia raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly are you here for, Mr. Evans?"

Roz grinned. "Oh, that's obvious."

Mercedes groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Roz, please."

Santana snickered from the corner. "Roz isn't wrong, though. This fake marriage is gonna be real spicy for the media."

"Oh, I am loving this…" Roz quipped. "Because if you two are gonna fake being married, you might as well enjoy the perks of being close."

Mercedes glared at Roz, but Sam caught the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips before she turned and walked back toward the fitting area.

As Sam sat down and began to make himself comfortable, he got a good look at Roz and froze. Recognition dawned on his face. "Wait a second... I know you."

Roz grinned, crossing her arms. "Damn, skippy, you do. Roz Washington, honey. Hell, if things were different, I could've been ya, Mama."

Sam blinked, trying to process that bombshell. "What?"

"Oh, I knew your daddy really well when we were in high school, didn't I, Gin?"

At that moment, Mercedes walked out of her bedroom in a silk robe, her hair pinned up as she adjusted an earring. She smirked at Roz's comment.

"Hey, Sam, can we talk?"

Sam stood, walking over to her. "Thank God for small miracles."

Roz shrugged with a laugh, unfazed. "You don't know what you missed out on, Sam; I would have been a great mom! You couldn't be bumping uglies with my niece, though; I am not that progressive."

"Oh God." Mercedes groaned. She looked at Sam and offered him a small smile. "I am so sorry about her; she has no filter."

Sam nodded. "I see that."

"So I have to go to rehearsal, but if you want, you can come early. We need to go over things anyway."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Like?"

As if on cue, Sebastian, who had been standing by the door watching the exchange with mild amusement, stepped forward and handed Sam a sleek black garment bag. "Here's your outfit for tonight. I have one for Blaine, too, as I assumed he would be coming."

Sam frowned, unzipping it slightly to peek inside. "I'm not performing. Why do I need an outfit?"

Sebastian smirked. "Because you're going on stage. Blaine and you will be backstage, but Mercedes is going to bring you out during her set."

Sam froze, his usual confidence replaced with visible panic. "Wait—on stage? In front of all those people?"

Seeing the look on his face, Mercedes sighed and gestured toward her room. "Excuse us." She grabbed Sam's arm, guiding him away from the others.

As they walked toward her bedroom, Roz called after them with a wicked grin, "Hey, remember you have guests. Don't be bumping and grinding in there!"

Virginia gasped. "Roz!"

"What? I'm just saying."

Virgina, standing off to the side, giggled. "They'd have cute babies, though."

Mercedes stopped mid-step, shooting a glare over her shoulder. "Not. Helping."

"Not, trying!" The two women said together.

Roz watched the closed door with a mischievous smirk. "Ten bucks says they're in there making out."

Virginia rolled her eyes. "Roz, please."

Santana, already scrolling through her phone, grinned. "I'll take that bet."

Sam followed her into the bedroom, his expression a mix of amusement and embarrassment. Once the door closed behind them, Mercedes crossed her arms, tilting her head as she studied Sam. "Okay, so you want to tell me what the problem is?"

Sam exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "The problem is, I didn't know going on stage was part of the deal. No one mentioned that."

Her expression softened as she stepped closer. "Look, I get it—it's a lot. But the label wants you to come out there with me tonight. They're selling this whole fairytale 'singer marries the boy next door' angle, and bringing you on stage seals it."

Sam frowned. "That's it? I just stand there?"

"I will say a few words, and you will smile."

Sam nodded. "I can do that."

There was a knock, and Sebastian opened the door. "Merce, it's almost time to go."

Mercedes nodded as she moved towards Sam, and his brain short-circuited, wondering if she was about to kiss him. The thought hit him like a freight train, and before he could stop himself, he leaned in ever so slightly, his lips parting just the tiniest bit.

But Mercedes reached for her cell phone behind him instead of leaning toward him.

Sam froze mid-lean, his face hovering in the air like an awkward statue. His eyes darted to the door and then back to her, his ears burning as realization dawned. She wasn't trying to kiss him.

Mercedes blinked, finally noticing his proximity. She raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching as if suppressing a laugh. "Uh… you good?"

Sam straightened up so fast he nearly toppled over. "Yeah! Yeah, it's totally good. Just… thought you were… uh, never mind."

Standing off to the side, Sebastian didn't try to hide his grin. "Smooth, Evans. Really smooth."

Mercedes bit her lip, clearly trying not to laugh, as she opened the bathroom door. "Right. Well… see you later, husband." She tossed the word over her shoulder with a wink and disappeared into the hallway.

The moment the door clicked shut, Sebastian let out a loud snort of laughter. "Wow. That was spectacularly painful to watch. What were you doing? Sniffing her hair?"

Sam shot him a glare, his face still red. "I thought she was—never mind! Shut up, Sebastian."

Sebastian clapped him on the back, laughing so hard he nearly doubled over. "Man, if you're this awkward around her, the whole 'pretend marriage' thing is gonna be hilarious. I'm gonna grab popcorn for this show."

Sam groaned, running a hand over his face. "Kill me now."

But even as he tried to shake it off, he couldn't stop replaying the moment in his head, wishing the ground would swallow him whole.


Mercedes hummed softly to herself as she slipped out of her rehearsal clothes and into a robe, the evening's silver dress hanging nearby. Her skin glistened faintly from the stage lights, and she dabbed at her temple with a towel, mentally running through the night's schedule.

She glanced at her phone, which lit up again with a series of missed calls and texts from Tom. Frowning, she tossed it onto the table. Why can't he take a hint?

A knock sounded on the door, and before she could respond, it swung open.

"Tom?" Her frown deepened as her ex-fiancé strolled in like he owned the place. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Tom smirked, casually shoving his hands into his pockets. "Relax, Lullaby. Told the guy out front I was an Evans. Flashed my ID, and he was more than happy to let your 'brother-in-law' in."

Mercedes narrowed her eyes, her irritation flaring. "You're not my anything. And you need to leave. Now."

His smirk faltered, replaced by a scowl. "Oh, come on, don't be like that. I just wanted to talk."

"Talk about what?" she snapped, crossing her arms. "How you've been blowing up my phone all day? How you just show up here uninvited? You need to go."

Tom stepped closer, his tone darkening. "I don't know why you're acting like this. You used to be reasonable. What is it with Sam, huh? You'd rather play pretend with him than be with someone who actually knows you? Who loves you?"

Mercedes stiffened but held her ground. "You don't know anything about Sam or what I want. Now leave."

Tom's face twisted with anger as he took another step toward her. "He's not even coming tonight, you know that? I just left him, and he told me himself—he's on his way back home. Said he wanted to get as far away from you as possible."

Mercedes rolled her eyes, unwilling to let his words rattle her. "Please. You expect me to believe that? You're just mad because you got left behind."

Tom's jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with frustration. "Did you ever wonder why you only met Sam and not my whole family? They hate your music, especially Sam. And now? They hate you even more because you seduced my brother and ruined everything!"

Her stomach churned, but she refused to let him see her flinch. Keeping her voice steady, she grabbed her phone and hit the call button. "Santana? Can you send security to my dressing room? Now."

Within seconds, the door burst open, Santana storming in with her signature no-nonsense attitude, followed closely by Dave, the towering bouncer.

"Tom, you need to go," Santana said sharply, her hands on her hips.

Tom glared at her, his frustration spilling over. "So said you need your lesbian bodyguard to get rid of."

Santana smirked. "Stay in here, Tom, I dare you."

Thomas glared at Santana but faltered, seeing the look in her eyes.

"Out. Now," Dave rumbled, stepping between Tom and Mercedes.

Tom's face twisted with resentment as he backed toward the door. "Fine, I'm leaving. But don't think for a second Sam actually wants to be here. He's probably halfway out of the city by now. And don't come crying to me when he leaves for good."

"God, I hate you!" Mercedes snapped, but he was already out the door, leaving a trail of bitterness behind him.

Santana let out a low whistle, shaking her head. "Girl, you sure can pick 'em. You okay?"

Mercedes exhaled slowly, steadying herself. "I'm fine. Thanks, Santana. And thanks, Dave."

Dave nodded gruffly. "You call if he shows up again."

As they left, Mercedes glanced at her reflection in the mirror, her shoulders tense. Tom's words echoed in her mind, but she shoved them aside. Sam wouldn't leave. Would he?

She turned back to the silver dress, determined to focus on the night ahead. No matter what happened, the show had to go on.