Sam woke with a start to the sound of the gravel driveway heralding an arrival. Her eyes adjusted to the headlights slashing across the walls, and she reached up to stretch, even though Little Bear's sling and soft weight limited her range of motion.
She had been cranky earlier in the evening, to the point that Sam was forced to pace circles around the house to make her sleep. Diaper-changing had been exciting in the least amusing way Sam could imagine, and Little Bear growled her matching distaste. Ultimately, though, the small child had slept through Sam's studies, lumped sleepily in her sling between Sam's chest and the table. Eventually, Sam too had closed her eyes for a brief catnap, which had now gone on for longer than planned.
She stood carefully and scanned for the kitchen clock. Nearly nine PM.
Sam frowned. Nice was pushing it. She made a note to put her foot down about times for the rest of the week.
Keys jangled in the lock, and Sam leaned on the table. She could not cross her arms over Little Bear, so she slipped up onto the table entirely and rested her feet on the chair she had just vacated, prepared to have a serious rule-setting battle with her employer.
Sam heard the clunk of boots hitting the floor before Root passed out of the back hall and into the kitchen. The taller woman slipped in on socks, seeming not to see Sam as she placed a large brown paper bag on the counter. She directed her face downward to unzip her jacket, but then paused and looked up when Sam cleared her throat. When she recognized Sam, her face relaxed from the guardedness it had assumed at the noise and she smirked.
"Oh good, you're still here," she chirped.
Sam looked at her as if she were a particularly random non sequitur.
"Where else would I be?" she demanded quietly, fearful of waking Little Bear. "What was I going to do, leave the kid here alone and go home?" Indignation stole her memory of resolving to be nominally people-friendly that week.
Root raised her eyebrows, but her smile did not diminish by a single watt. She stood for a moment, taking in the sight of Sam with the baby strapped to her chest, and her grin grew annoyingly wider.
"I guess not," she ceded. She turned and reached behind her to retrieve the bag from the counter, brandishing it enticingly. "Hungry?"
Sam narrowed her eyes and thought. She still had several chapters of MCAT prep she wanted to get through before crashing. Still, food was food.
"What is it?" she asked suspiciously, taking to her feet for investigative purposes. Instead of answering, Root held out the bag with a smirk. Shaw padded over and attempted to snatch the bag, but Root held on too, leaving her awkwardly peering into the depths of the greasy bag while standing entirely too close to the other woman.
"See something you like?" Root inquired. Shaw frowned and looked up, unamused. Root hastened to speak again, and she followed Sam's lead in speaking quietly. "It's Chinese, so there's a lot of variety. I was hoping that there'd be something you could sink your teeth into."
Although she was skeptical of Root's word choice and tone, which bordered dangerously on innuendo, the delicious aroma of egg rolls had already invaded her sinuses and taken control of her decision-making centers.
"Fine," she decided. Then, in a burst of exasperation, "but where do you keep her crib?"
"Something you wanted to get off your chest, Sam?" Root asked playfully. Sam glared, an expression she felt she had earned the right to direct at the other woman, but a small smile still adorned Root's lips as she shook her head and turned. "I think we left it in the front hall closet this morning," she threw over her shoulder on her way out of the kitchen. Sam quirked an eyebrow in an unasked question, but Root was already gone.
When Sam sauntered into the front hall, trying as nonchalantly as possible not to jostle Little Bear into wakefulness, Root was dragging a folded travel crib-playpen combo out of the closet. Sam's brow furrowed at this newest proof of a strange, strange household.
"Did you just move or something?" she asked in disbelief.
Root straightened from unfolding the crib, tossing her long hair behind her shoulder.
"Yes, actually," she smiled with a touch of surprise. "Okay, stick her in, and then we can go eat."
Stick her in? Really? Ignoring Root's offhanded instructions, Sam tucked an arm around Little Bear while reaching around behind herself with the other hand to unsnap the sling.
"Here, let me." With a tiny whisper of socks on carpet, Root was behind her, hands lingering a split second more than necessary on Sam's back. Sam shrugged her hands off and took a step forward. She shed the rest of the sling, then bent over and nestled Little Bear into the playpen. She froze when a soft grumble escaped the infant, but relaxed when the baby only smacked her lips and rolled a little in her sleep. When she straightened up, Root had already returned to the kitchen.
When Sam reached the kitchen door, Root was pulling containers and smaller plastic bags from the takeout carrier. She waved two packs of chopsticks at Sam.
"I thought we could just eat out of the containers, if you don't mind sharing a few germs," she proposed cheerfully.
Sam did not answer, but strode over to the table and shoved all her study materials to the other end to make room for the food.
"So you obviously didn't kill the baby," Root remarked as she settled into a chair. "Any problems?"
Engrossed in snapping her chopsticks apart and choosing the first container in which to sink them, Sam spoke without thinking.
"Nope, Bear slept most of the evening," she shrugged. She stuck most of an egg roll into her mouth, only looking up when Root did not speak again. When she did look, Root was laughing, and Sam frowned.
"You never told me her name," she protested grumpily. "And she sounds like a little bear. It worked."
Root kept laughing, but nodded. "You're right," she agreed, "she does sound like a bear." She grabbed her own container and dug in. "Her name is Irene, by the way, but I think I like Bear better."
"Little Bear," Sam corrected her.
"Little Bear," Root agreed. "Honestly, I don't know why she's named Irene in the first place." Yet another odd comment, but one that Sam was willing to let go in favor of fried rice.
She started determined to eat quickly and get home, but somehow Root sucked her into a conversation. It started there with Little Bear and ranged further, hitting on Sam's studies and Root's work, which had something to do with cutting-edge computer programming, then ranging farther afield. Sam found herself talking more than she ever did, and she did not feel more than a vague urge to leave. The realization was both strange and unwanted, so she pushed it to the back of her mind where it belonged.
After they had demolished nearly all of the containers, leaving only sesame cookies, both women slowed down. Suddenly, Root paused and held her chopsticks up.
"So Sam, tell me: babysitting?" she inquired. She jabbed her chopsticks at Sam, as if cueing the smaller woman's part of a two-person symphony.
Sam shook her head, but answered perfunctorily in the middle of a bite of Mongolian beef.
"Pre-med," she shrugged. "Needed money, and child-care looks better on med school applications than working the makeup counter at Macy's." When she raised her head from the container, she caught Root looking at her with something like amusement. Sam insisted to herself that there was no adoration in Root's eyes, but the yellow kitchen lighting made it hard to tell.
"I'm sure you'd be just wonderful at customer service," Root murmured into a package of rice. Before Sam could spit out the indignant comment on her tongue, Root interrupted. "Which reminds me, we haven't discussed payment." Her smirk insinuated that more than money was on offer, a point which Sam had seen quite clearly.
The other woman was not much older than she was, attractive and intriguing despite, or perhaps because of, her strange and mysterious behavior, not to mention the confidence, but still, her employer. A lot of people claimed attraction to Sam, although it usually ended abruptly when she unleashed her tongue and personality; that was not shocking. What was truly surprising was that, despite her earlier certainty, she found herself entertaining the idea.
She must have been silent for longer than she thought, because Root's smirk deepened and she continued.
"You can ask for what you want, I'll agree to anything," she murmured pointedly. Was she enjoying this? That had to stop, as did the expression in Root's eyes.
"Twenty bucks an hour," Sam hazarded. Fifteen seemed appropriate, but she was curious to see what Root said to a higher number.
The other woman only shrugged, strange expression gone.
"Twenty's fine," she said. "So that's, what, twenty-four times seven times twenty, so three thousand three hundred sixty. Let's round to thirty-five hundred," she suggested brightly. "Okay?"
Sam stuttered. That was a lot of money, but there was another huge problem.
"Twenty-four?! As in, you expect me to live here?!" she demanded. "Are you crazy?" The question slipped out before she could remember to be polite, but Root merely grinned.
"Not most days," she answered breezily. "But yes, I need you to stay here to take care of her. I certainly don't know how to do it," she chuckled.
Sam stared at Root, certain that despite what the textbooks said, this was what a psychotic break looked like.
"What the hell? What do you do the rest of the time?" she demanded angrily. A thought dawned on her. "Did you kidnap her?" she asked flatly. She eyed Root, assessing how best to defend herself if the crazy woman attacked her.
"What? No," Root answered with amusement. "She's my sister's."
Sam raised her face to the ceiling and groaned. Then she faced Root's bemused expression again. The other woman was enjoying keeping Sam in the dark entirely too much.
"Explain. Everything." Sam ordered, spitting both words with great force. Root complied with an entertained quirk of her lips.
"My sister had a work trip and decided to turn it into a vacation. Under the guise of giving me quality time with my niece, she dumped her here this morning," she explained, rolling her eyes.
Sam absorbed the information, integrating it into everything else she had sussed out from her day in the woman's house and company.
"Okay," she accepted grudgingly, "but I'm still not staying here."
Root pouted.
"I'll pay you well," she argued. That was true, Sam allowed. "And it's summer, you can't have much to do that you can't do from here." Also true. Still.
"I don't have any of my clothes or anything with me," Sam replied, but her argument was losing support fast.
Root grinned.
"You can borrow from me," she offered. "I'm sure we can find something you like for tonight," she continued silkily, "and in the morning I can drive you over to pick up your things."
Sam ignored the continuing innuendo.
"I can come back in the mornings," she offered desperately. "You'd just have to watch her at night."
Root's face was smug, as though she knew Sam was about to cave.
"It won't work," she declared. "I'll pay you whatever you want, however you want," she stated, leaning forward, "but I. Need. You."
Sam broke the uncomfortably long eye contact with a smiling Root.
"Fine," she huffed. "But you're paying me four thousand," she added, if only to retain some sense of control.
Root's smirk and acquiescent nod did nothing to reassure her.