I do not own Glee or any characters featured in Glee.

Mercedes Jones was a single woman with no kids and no boyfriend to speak of. Mercedes Jones was also a nurse and aspiring Hollywood make-up artist. One problem: she was stuck in a Podunk town called Lima in Ohio.

It's a seemingly normal Wednesday evening in Lima, Ohio. Mercedes Jones finishes up a conversation with her cousin Lamont via cell phone. They had just discussed Mercedes not being able (yet again) to make it out to Lamont's rinky-dink bar, The Boom Box, for the night. Every Wednesday was open mic night and he constantly begged for her to help out the sad sappy singers that showed up by being a friendly face in the crowd. Also, at the end of the night, he would try his best to coax her up on stage. 9 times out of 10 Lamont was unsuccessful. For the past 5 weeks, Lamont was equally unsuccessful in getting his cousin to attend in the first place.

Mercedes was the definition of a workaholic. She enjoyed people and spending time with and tending to her patients, so "workaholic" didn't really apply to her in her opinion. One of her best friends, Kurt Hummel, would agree…with the rest of the world on that workaholic issue. Kurt worked as a part-time mortician and esthetician. Life was a struggle for both of them and they couldn't wait to leave Lima, but something always got in the way. Mercedes always had some financial emergency that quickly depleted her meager savings and Kurt, well, Kurt snagged himself a handsome doctor who had no intentions of leaving Lima at the present. Mercedes indeed felt stuck in her life, but she was the type to make the best of her situation and she always kept her eye on the prize: Hollywood.

Mercedes met Kurt in cosmetology school 5 years ago and the two instantly bonded. A sassy gay man and a fabulous black woman – that's friendship law – isn't it? At least that's what Kurt blurted out during their first lunch hang-out and it just seemed to make sense. Over the past 5 years, Mercedes found the odd job here and there that required her expert makeup skills to supplement her primary income source: nursing. Sometimes she and Kurt would book a job together. He'd do a bridal party's facials and Mercedes would do the makeup. She truly enjoyed making women feel beautiful and seeing how her natural talents (and a few tips she picked up in school) could transform a plain face into a knockout or subtly enhance an already beautiful face just the right amount. She always received compliments on her personal makeup style from the older male patients on her floor at St. Crispin's Hospital. One chronic patient – Mr. Figgins – was a shameless fan of Miss Jones. The older East Indian man had the cutest accent and he loved to yell out "Miss Jooooones, there isn't a prettier nurse in alllllll – of – Limaaaaaa". The sweet nurse would giggle and playfully bat away Mr. Figgins advances , but truth be told, those frequent compliments and flirtations made her day. Being a workaholic leaves little time for a social life and even less time for romantic endeavors. There was also the hope and work towards that prize: Hollywood - that kept her nose to the grindstone and her body at home alone when she wasn't at work. Mercedes was human and of course she longed for some male companionship – other than that of Kurt and his "D-r. B-f." as she liked to tease. The barriers to love she faced were not simply her workaholic nature and unwavering focus on her long term goals. She just happened to reside in one the most fruitless towns in America where dating and men were concerned. It seemed as if all the eligible men were taken and she refused to entertain the dating dregs of McKinley High's Class of 2012. So, day by day, she became a devotee to her routine and despite the pleas from Kurt and the occasional awkward online date; she opted to forego any serious desires for love at the moment.

Lamont Sides felt a tap on his shoulder as he hung up the phone. Turning around, his eyes met a hooded male figure in dark sunglasses.

"It's me." the figure whispered.

"Sev?" asked Lamont.

The mysterious man nodded in the affirmative.

"Man, why are you dressed like that?" Lamont playfully scoffed.

"Have you ever heard of 'going incognito'?" the man replied.

"Yes, but this is ridiculous and unnecessary. Nobody's here yet and even if they were I doubt anyone would know who you were." Lamont tried to stifle a laugh, but his efforts were futile.

The man let out a heavy sigh as he pushed back the hood of his sweatshirt and removed the sunglasses.

"You will never stop busting my chops, will ya?" the man whined.

Lamont threw his hands in the air and shot the man a look of agreement.

A leggy brunette sashayed up to the counter where Lamont was holding court with his previously cloaked cohort. "Hey, Sam!" the brunette squeaked.

"Hey, Sugar. You still working in this dump?" Sam chirped perfunctorily as he shot a playful sneer to Lamont.

Sugar chuckled as she ruffled Sam's golden mop of hair. "You silly goose – you ask me that every week!"

Lamont chimed in "Sugar, he knows that. He was just joshing you, girl."

Sugar was beautiful but not the sharpest tool in the shed. "Ohhhhh!" she sighed in relief. "I get it now." She bent over the front of the bar to retrieve a stack of drink napkins. Sam couldn't help himself as he eyed her slender and toned form. She had a delicious olive complexion and a tiny waist that was accentuated by the denim hot pants and form fitting t-shirt she sported. If there was one thing Sam appreciated about his friend Lamont's dive bar, it was the server's uniforms. Sugar sped away.

"Sev, don't even think about it." Lamont warned.

"I know she's off limits, but there's no law that says I can't look."

"When Puckerman pounds your head to a pulp for eyeing up his woman, don't come crying to me, is all I'm sayin'."

"Puckerman doesn't concern me. Also, why the hell do you still insist on calling me 'Sev'?"

Lamont snorted. "I'm just honoring your legacy."

Sam rolled his eyes and ran his fingers swiftly through his hair.

Lamont started again "How does that one go? Something about a super lover?"

Sam shook his head and waved his friend off as he skulked away.

Lamont laughed heartily to himself as he finished preparing the bar for the hopeful Wednesday night crowd.

A few hours later The Boom Box was filled to one-third of its capacity, which was actually better than expected. A light roar of conversation permeated the dark and smoky atmosphere. Sugar sauntered around; flirting with patrons as she took drink orders. Lamont tended bar. Sam was perched all alone in a corner with his hood placed back over his head. He took a few sips from his whiskey and ginger-ale combo. A familiar numbing came upon him which only a sweetly muddled glass of his favorite top-shelf liquor could provide. Resting his head against the wall, he attempted to let his mind wander.

A few minutes later, a sweetly husky and accented voice blared out over the aged sound system. The voice was that of Rory Flanagan, a recent transplant from Ireland who happily played M.C. for the night's pitiful festivities. "Alright, lads and lasses, our first performer is a Lima native who goes by the name of Miss Tina Cohen-Chang. It's her first night, so let's give our Boom Box virgin some love."

The crowd cackled.

Realizing the implications of his remarks, the achingly adorable Irishman blushed as his eyes met the amber eyes of the beautiful Asian woman he introduced. She flashed him a forgiving smile as she made her way to the stage with a ukulele in tow.

Tina played a few light notes before warbling out an original folksy composition about young love and heartache. It was the typical fare for open mic at The Boom Box. As Tina finished, she was met with a deft round of applause. Making her way to the bar, she was stopped by Sam.

"Excuse me, Miss Chang?"

"Oh, it's Cohen-Chang actually or you can call me C.C." Tina chirped brightly.

"C.C. – that's cute. Um, you were great up there."

"Really? I was so nervous, but I had fun. Thank you!"

"There was no need for nerves, you totally owned the audience. You've got a lot going for you."

A smile as big as the sky formed on Miss Chang's face. She let out a heavy breath as she blushed. "I don't know what to say" she began "I've never been so complimented on my music. I usually just keep it to myself…it's mostly a hobby."

Sam smiled brightly. "Well, I have some contacts in the business and I think if you got yourself a decent demo, you could be label ready in only a matter of months."

Tina took a small step back and clutched her chest. "Shut the front door!" she squealed. "No way!"

"Yeah, what you've got is unique and folk is making a comeback right now, so the timing couldn't be more perfect." Sam reached into his back pocket for his wallet. Handing her a business card he added "If you really want to pursue this, give me a call next week so we can discuss further."

Tina swiped the card out of his hand with zeal and held it to her chest, then quickly inspected the text. "Oh my god, thank you so much Mr. Evans! You'll definitely hear from me soon!" She smiled even bigger than before and skipped off to the bar.

It was 11:15pm when the last of the patrons shuffled out of The Boom Box. Another marginally successful open mic night had come and gone. Sugar sat cross legged at the bar as Lamont trashed the left over baskets of popcorn and nuts, but not before Sam grabbed a small handful of each for the road.

"So Sugar," Sam began slyly "do you need a ride home?"

Lamont cleared his throat obnoxiously loud as he narrowed his eyes at Sam. Sam flashed his patented half-smile and waited for the pretty woman's reply.

"My No-No's picking me up as usual, but thanks Sam, that's super duper sweet of you." Sugar squeaked.

"No-No?"

"Sure, it's my pet name for Noah!" Sugar giggled to herself as she lazily twirled a tendril of hair around her finger.

Suddenly the roar of an engine outside signaled Noah Puckerman's arrival.

Sugar squealed with delight. "Yay No-No's here! I'll see you next week Sam and I'll see you tomorrow night, Lamont." She hopped off of the bar stool and Sam's eyes couldn't help but trail her as she scampered to the door. Before she could reach the handle, the door flung open. Noah Puckerman towered over his lithe girlfriend's frame. "Hey babe, I gotta take a piss before we get outta here." Puck breezed past Sugar and nodded to Lamont as he headed for the men's room. Sam pursed his lips and rolled his eyes.

A few minutes later, Puck returned. He threw up his hand and nodded to Lamont on his way out, who was wiping down the bar one last time.

Sam uttered (what he thought was under his breath) "What a fucking douche."

Puck stopped in his tracks. Lamont tightened his grip on the cloth as he stopped. Sam's eyes were focused on the back wall. Puck questioned "What was that Evans?"

Sam pursed his lips tighter than before and turned slowly to face his accuser. When he offered no reply, Puck headed toward Sam and stopped an inch from his face.

Lamont barked "We don't want any trouble Puckerman. It's late, he's drunk, and I'm ready to go home." His plea fell on deaf ears because Puck abruptly questioned Sam again.

This time, Sam removed himself from the bar stool he occupied and stared straight into his opponent's eyes before uttering "I said, 'what a fucking douche', or I should say a fucking deaf douche." Sam let out an obnoxious laugh as he shoved his right shoulder forcefully. That was the final draw. Puck whipped out a pocket knife and grabbed Sam's pre-clenched jaw firmly.

Sugar screamed in horror. Lamont barked again. "Puckerman, come on man, there's no need for this!"

Puck roared "Shut up Sides, this isn't your fight!"

An inferno sparked inside Sam and he wrestled Puck's hand from his face. In the all too brief scuffle, Sam miscalculated the angle of a knife swipe and the blade landed deep into his lower left abdomen.

A tearful Sugar screamed out "Noah, what did you do?"

Lamont was frozen in disbelief. Puck sneered as he slowly backed away, his eyes fixed on Sam, who grunted in agony on the floor. Turning for the door, Puck jerked Sugar through the door with him. The screech of tires was almost deafening.

Sam's eyes fluttered as the realization of what happened rushed over him. Lamont rushed to Sam's aid and dialed 911 from his cell phone. He shook violently as he cradled his wounded friend. With his hand tightly pressed against the gash, Sam blinked hard and pointedly. On the brink of losing consciousness, he finally uttered "call Q…"