Six Word Story: "This is not what you promised."

One tequila.

Two tequila.

Three tequila.

Floor.

That rhyme definitely wasn't just a rhyme, it was a warning.

A seriously serious warning that people should listen to more often because...bar floors were dirty and grimy and people stepped on your shoes and on your fingers while you were down there trying to pick up your modesty.

She hadn't meant to drink as much tequila as she did...it just, sort of...happened.

One minute she's the biggest thing since sliced bread and the next she's being thrown out of the theater with a box of her belongings and her diamond-studded gold star dressing room sign.

So what if she didn't want to fake date Jesse St. James anymore? He was awful and mean and selfish and extremely self-centered.

Why did her wanting to be single somehow get her fired from her show and dragged through every Broadway blog site there was? How was she the bad guy in this situation?

She really had to start reading her contracts herself and not letting her manager do it all. Her manager didn't even care about her, all Artie cared about was his cut and whatever bimbo he was banging that night.

She couldn't remember how she ended up on the floor of the bar or in the bar at all, one minute she was carrying her things and the next...she was downing tequila like it was herbal tea.

She got up quickly, no one was going to keep Rachel Berry down. She was the next best thing, she was America's next Barbra Streisand, she was better than Jesse St. James and better than Artie Abrams.

She was Rachel Barbra Berry and she wasn't going to let this minor set back stop her from total stage domination.

She just had to find a new manager, hell, she needed to find an entire new team of people.

People she could trust and people who knew how to take care of her.

If she had those types of people now she wouldn't be carrying her shoes while drunkenly stumbling through The Theater District barefoot.

"Ma'am?"

The police officer sighed and grabbed Rachel's arm, "Excuse me, ma'am? Look, you're going to have to come with me okay?"

Rachel huffed and tugged her arm free, "I don't have to go anywhere with you, Sir, I am going home."

The officer smirked, "Is that so? Then why have you been trying to get into the Gershwin for the last twenty minutes?"

"I...you have no proof!" Rachel argued. "Besides, how do you know this isn't my home anyways?"

"Seeing as you're not allowed to live in there, I'd be willing to bet it's not your home, ma'am."

"It may as well should have been my home. I spent eight nights a week here!"

The officer raised an eyebrow, "Eight nights a week, huh?"

"Yes. That's what I said." Rachel grumbled, stomping a barefoot against the cool concrete.

"Look, just come with me okay? I'll bring you somewhere better I promise."

Rachel narrowed her eyes, "Why should I trust you? You could be a fake cop trying to kill me."

"If I were a fake cop, a drunk loud mouth girl would not be my first target."

"I am Broadway royalty, Officer.." Rachel paused, trying to read the name on the officer's tag, "Lopez."

Officer Lopez shrugged, "I don't care if you are the Queen of France, you're being a public nuisance and I have to take you in."

"I promise I'll treat you to the best holding tank we have." She added quickly, "Only the best are allowed in there."

Rachel sighed and held her wrists out, "Fine, take me like I am some sort of criminal. My lawyer will be hearing about this though."

The officer rolled her eyes as she cuffed the drunk woman and lead her into the back of the squad car, she was definitely getting too old to deal with all of the drunk people New York had to offer.

She grimaced as the self-proclaimed Queen of Broadway threw up all over the backseat and passed out.

Seriously?

"Lopez! You're in charge of watching the drunk tank tonight, Chang called in so you're up, kid."

"Aw, Sarg, are you serious?! Chang never watches the tank. I always have to do it."

"Are you whining, Lopez? You could be doing paper work."

The officer sighed, "No, it's fine. Is it full?"

"Nah, just the tiny girl you brought in. What'd she have, one mixed drink?"

"Well my back seat smells like a Mexican restaurant so I think it was tequila, Sir."

"Ah well, I'm sure it smells no different then, right, Lopez?" The man laughed rudely.

Lopez cringed but laughed along weakly as the man stomped away, "Right."

She sighed as she made her way over to the area of the station where she left the Broadway Queen, not looking forward to being there at all.

She had proved herself as more than a street cop more than once but her sexist, misogynistic prick of a boss wouldn't promote her.

She was going to fight her way to the top, Santana Lopez wasn't at the bottom.

Ever.

Rachel squeezed her eyes shut tightly and buried her head in her bed.

Except...

There was no soft sheets or lavender scent filling her nostrils.

There was cold plastic that reeked of urine and vomit and one single light ray shining through the very tiny window.

She blinked as she stared around at her surroundings.

This had to be some sort of prank.

She glared at the officer sleeping hunched over some paper work, that was the same woman who brought her in here. The woman who—

"This is not what you promised." Rachel growled as she tossed one f her heavy bangle bracelets at the officer.

Santana awoke startled at the sudden hit, "What the fu–"

"Hey! That's considered assaulting an officer, I could arrest you for that."

Rachel rolled her eyes, "It was hardly assault, I was trying to wake you up. I have learned my lesson and I'm ready to go, release me."

Santana frowned, "I don't think you've learned anything. You can stay in there a while longer."

"I cannot stay in here! I need to go, I have a yoga class to attend." Rachel said.

"Sorry, there's nothing I can do. We still have to fill out your paperwork, Broadway Queen." Santana mumbled as she dug through the paper work to find the form she was looking for.

Rachel sighed, "My name is Rachel Berry, this is my first—and last, criminal offense. I have never even had one speeding ticket. I'm a good person, I donate to charity and I am a vegan!"

Santana raised an eyebrow in amusement, "And you think those things make you a good person?"

"Why wouldn't they? I am a good member of society." Rachel stated, her hands placed firmly on her hips.

"Whatever you say, BQ." Santana said as she busied herself with paperwork.

Rachel groaned, "Are you going to let me out or not?"

She paused waiting for any indication the officer was going to answer, groaning again when the woman ignored her.

She leaned against the bars of the cell and sighed, "Please let me out, Officer Lopez. I really have learned my lesson and I won't drink in public and try to break into a theater again."

Rachel pouted as the woman kept on ignoring her, sliding down and sitting cross-legged on the floor she silently wondered where her shoes were, hoping she wouldn't need a tetanus shot from being barefoot all over New York—especially from this cell.

She was just glad she was alone, other than Officer Lopez.

"Got another one for you, Santana. Found her beating up this guy with a mohawk outside their apartment." Chang said as he pushed the drunk woman into the cell, "Guy said she was out all night and came home early this morning drunk off her ass and tried to keep it quiet but a neighbor complained and she punched him."

Santana glared, "So you can take over here then? Now that you're feeling better and all."

Chang shook his head as he walked away, "No can do, San, Chief is sending me out to bust a crack house."

Santana kicked her desk in frustration, "This is total bullshit."

Rachel cleared her throat nervously, "Um, S-Santana, is it? I know you don't care but this lady is sending me extremely icy glares right now and I'm a little scared so if you could—"

Santana rolled her eyes and unlocked the cell, shaking her head as Rachel ran out quickly.

She stumbled as Rachel wrapped her arms around her tightly, "Thank you! You are a great officer, thank you."

Santana untangled herself and pushed Rachel away, "Whatever, let's go get your stuff and sign the release form. Blondie can chill here for a while."

She stared in disbelief as Rachel skipped alongside her, this woman had to be a little bit insane at least.

In an oddly cute way.

"So, you can go now." Santana said as she handed Rachel the plastic bag that held her belongings.

Rachel bit her lip as she dug through her tiny hand bag, "I'm putting together an entire new team of people...I need a body guard so," She handed Santana a business card with her cell phone number scrawled on the back, "If you ever get tired of picking up random drunk people give me a call."

Santana played with the card as Rachel walked out of the station, high maintenance was not her favorite type of boss but...being a body guard felt like something she wouldn't mind doing.

Maybe she'd give Rachel Berry the Broadway Queen a call, it couldn't hurt.

Maybe her job wasn't so bad after all.

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