Disclaimer: Does anybody need one at this point?
A/N The original draft of chapter four was over 7000 words and growing when I decided I had enough material for several chapters (such is the slow genius of WhiteKnightro), so posting it in digestible chunks gets some new material out there and gives me some breathing room to shape up the remaining chapters. My goal is to produce the best possible story and not to waste any reader's time. Sometimes I succeed.
My thanks to messy heart, Julefor, Darsnider, mizkntuhke and all the reviewers of the story to date. Your questions and observations helped me sharpen my pencil.
Chapter four: Sam Slammed
Sam's POV:
Everybody is screaming and running, like those Japanese movies where big lizards are stepping on everything. Carly is shrieking like a braking car. Gibby is losing his mind, is he calling me "Psycho"? He looks the same as I remember, bigger maybe, heavier. Even Spencer seems ticked and he's moving like he got thrown under a bus. Benson is out cold on the hall floor.
Screw 'em all. Benson has the stones to come back here, he gets what he gets.
I should not have hit him.
"Sam, how could you?" Carly says with that mother/keeper look she gets, like she's going to send me to my room.
But Gibby is about to pop a vessel, his face is bright red, like a cheap marinara sauce, "I knew it! I knew you'd do something like this! What is your problem Puckett?"
"Dial it down Gibson," I tell him but he's not backing off.
"No! You had no right to hit him!"
Okay, my anger surprised even me. Carly told me that the knock on the door was Freddie and every bit of calm I've spent the last two years building just ran out of me. Everything actually went red. I couldn't believe she would set me up, well, yeah I can, that's how she rolls. But Freddie thinking he can come back because CARLY tells him he'd better?
Chiz head.
It was kind of scary I'll admit. I haven't lost it like just now in a long time. I think I ran over Spencer to get to the door. When I saw Freddie standing there I only had two options and I went with "hit him." I just couldn't do the other.
I should not have hit him.
Spencer is leaning over Freddie, "Wowza!" He says, "How hard did you hit him? Look at his face!"
He's hurt?
Gibby, glaring at me, walks over to the two of them and says, "Nah, he had that before. Don't help him. He's got it. He's got it. Fred! Round two—ding ding," and he makes a rope tugging motion with his hand.
Freddie, flat on his back, flexes, a kind of wave starts in one end of his body, kicking with his legs, without using his hands or arms he comes completely to his feet.
Okay, that's new.
Now here comes the old. The whine. What will it be? "Saaaam!" or maybe, "Darn it Sam! Did you have to hit me?" Said in a high, girly way that makes me wonder how I ever was attracted to him. Bring it Fredward. I'm so ready for this.
"Hoo eee, Samson," he says, rubbing the purple black left side of his face.
His face! What happened? I didn't do that; please don't let me have done that. Did he just call me a cute name?
"You still got it," He says, "If I get a vote, next time hit me in the back with an orange." He winks at me!
"You don't get a vote," and I say it with enough anger that I'm pretty sure my spit would eat through the floor. The rage-it's like hot chili boiling over in my head. Where is this coming from? I can barely contain it.
Freddie smiles at me, ignoring my tone. He's staring at me, for like a long time.
Say something.
Finally he speaks, "Right, guess I'll ask Carly for some ice." And he turns toward Carly.
"Hey lady," he says, "Whoa! You look great! I like the haircut, kinda Tinkerbell action workin' there," and he hugs her. She smiles and they stand for a while feeling, I dunno, warm and happy, or something. My stomach flips. Suddenly I'm so hungry I could do that snake thing with my jaw and just swallow a cow.
"Freddie, you look amazing, I like the aftershave. How was the trip? I'm so sorry about…" and Carly pauses.
I want you to hold me. How do I look?
"Hey, it wouldn't be homecoming without a beat down from the princess." He looks at me, smiling like a monkey, "Carly didn't tell you I was coming until just a minute ago, right?"
How did he know?
"I know because of how you hit me."
This is creepy, he's reading my mind.
Read my mind—please.
"When you plan your attacks you have your butter sock ready. When you're taken by surprise you rely on just your fists," and he rubs his face again, "Thank you for not telling her," he tells Carly.
Carly gives him a playful fist to the shoulder; Spencer comes over. Freddie grabs Spencer's pony tail and gives him a "really?" look.
"Hey, I'm an artist. I had to do it sometime."
They laugh and shake hands. "Hey, you do smell good," Spencer tells him.
Gibby joins them and I feel like I'm looking through a window. There should be snow falling on me.
"Hey gang, let's bring it inside," and Spencer motions us back into the apartment holding the door. I'm kinda dazed so I'm the last to go in. Spencer blocks me for just a second, "You okay?" he asks.
I nod my head, "Sure, no troubles. I don't get why everybody is pumped about me dusting Fredwina."
He looks at me like I just pulled a cat out of my left nostril, "Sam, you haven't seen him in two years. As greetings go it's kinda—an odd choice."
I just shrug.
He gives me a half smile squeezes my shoulder and lets me in. Something is wrong in my head, but I remember why I had a crush on Spencer when I was younger.
Freddie is staring at me across the room as Carly drags me into the kitchen. "Sam, what happened just now?" she asks.
I shrug again, as an answer it kind of works for me.
"Just promise me you won't hit him again."
"Promise me a taco truck will finish the job it started before the night is over," I tell her.
She gets this look on her face like she has to chiz real bad, "Sam, are you okay?" she asks.
Shrug.
She turns from me slowly, digs in the freezer, pulls something out and walks it over to Freddie, glancing back at me.
Freddie looks at it and smiles, "This is a Boogie Bear cold mitten for kids. 'Boo Boo Boogie' I used this when I was a kid and…" Freddie is looking at me, "well, I had some injury."
Freddie is different looking. Same brown hair and eyes the shade of good root beer, but the goatee thing, the haircut, the earring, black jeans, the penny tee, what the heck is CFFSFG? It works for him. And his right arm has this—vein. It stretches from under his sleeve, rolls over a rockin' bicep/tricep combo and joins a bunch of other veins in his forearm. Am I staring at it? He was into fitness when we were together but this? He looks…hot. Really, really hot.
Momma like.
STOP! Not doing this again. I got a life now, I did my Freddie time. I got my mind back. I don't need any more crazy. It wasn't that good. I got out because I found something better. Or I thought so at the time. Anyway, this is how he comes back? All those times I tried to call him, text him, write him. He always responded back, so polite, just like now. Nice guy Freddie. Do the-right-thing-Freddie. I couldn't rile him, couldn't get him to push back. I got your message Freddie.
You wanted it over. You were glad to unload me. Mad Sam, too-much-trouble Puckett. I always knew you wanted out; you just couldn't end it so you waited till I found someone else. I'll bet you were so happy when I gave you an out.
It's what men do. They lie. My father said he was coming back and never did. James Ryan lied.
I hate Freddie. I HATE him.
He came back.
It's kind of awkward at first, but Carly does the hostess thing, serving her special lemonade. Spencer shows Freddie and Gibby his latest work. It's made of lots of old electronics, cassette tape recorders, a big tube TV, something called an 8 Track, Freddie is nodding, he keeps looking over at me. Techsack is being really nice to everyone. I mean, Freddie was always nice, but this time he's added some kind of weird overdrive to it. This has to be one of his plans. He maps stuff out.
Spencer asks, "So Freddie, what happened with the face?"
"Uhm, Sam hit me," and he glances at me like he's not sure why.
"Your eye was jacked when you got here, nerdcompoop," I tell him.
"Yeah, and you hit him in the same spot—nice welcome. You steal blind peoples' dogs, too?" Gibby says.
I look him in the eye, "You feeling froggish Gibson? Jump."
"I'm right here, Puckett."
"That a challenge?"
"I'm not a dumb kid anymore Sam."
"No, you're a dumb adult."
"SamGibby!" I've never heard Carly smush the two names together before. Usually she's only mad at one of us at a time.
"Gib, it's cool," Freddie says. He's not mad that I hit him? It makes me want to hit him again. I haven't felt this crazy since we first started dating.
"So what happened with the face?" Spencer asks again.
Freddie starts to speak, "Oh, yeah, well…
"Software architecture is a rough game," Gibby says and we don't get any more of an explanation because Gibby goes off on one of those weird, "What's a radish?" "Can I keep this bucket of hair?" back roads that make me and so many of our old fans wonder what planet he's really from.
We sit around the living room and play catch-up. That vein in Freddie's arm. I can't take my eyes off it. What is wrong with me? It's like he's meat—exotic bacon. I want to touch that vein, that arm, bite my way up to his neck…
STOP! Take a breath, girl. This is the liar who didn't think enough of you to come after you.
He came back.
I really want to hit him again. My fists are clenched, knuckles going white.
Carly serves some cracker things that her squeeze, Stuart, showed her how to make. They're pretty good, but the worst food I've ever had was pretty good.
Everyone takes a turn talking about what they've been doing. Spencer talks about his art, how he finally got representation at a gallery, making sales, getting some strong reviews. Carly tells about staying in school, taking the GRE, working on her masters, interning at the TV station, how she's sorry that Stuart her boyfriend couldn't be here. I like Stuart but I hate his name. Stuart is a dumb name. Gibby talks about working at Pear as an administrative assistant and Freddie's stooge. When he's not talking he's got his phone out, typing with his thumbs. Freddie talks his nubby nerd talk about computers and tech/blah /nerd/blah dork/blah geek/blah. Yeah, Freddie, you are mister information technology. Tell us a few funny stories about meetings you've been in. Everybody has a funny story to tell about their lives. I don't have a lot of funny stories. I've spent the last two years putting my life back together when you couldn't be bothered to do the right thing when it counted most.
What about the skanks I want to say to him, what about all the hook-ups? Didn't you learn anything from watching Pam Puckett hop from guy to guy? The thought of him sleeping around has me ready to eat my own teeth.
He wouldn't do that.
Freddie says, "Hey, sorry, IT presentations only have so many funny things happen. I'd better stop."
"Please," I say.
He smiles at me like one of those robot people that hand out tracts and worry about whether you're going to heaven, "Your turn, Sam. What have you been doing?"
"Like you care?" C'mon, Fredsnot, fight me.
"Sam!" Carly says, again with the mom tone, well like good moms, not mine, that's for sure.
He sits there smiling. I imagine a halo on his head and a bird landing on his finger. Saint Freddie.
The sensation I get looking at him. It's so strong. It must be hate. I've felt like this before…
"No, it's okay. I understand," he tells us.
"You understand? Tell me what you understand?"
Spencer is looking at us like we just set the room on fire. Then he says, "Sam is working for Fat Johnny."
"Fat Johnny, the restaurateur?" Freddie asks with that eyebrow thing he does.
That face. I've missed that face.
"No, Fat Johnny the astronaut that no rocket can lift. How dumb are you Benson?" I want to grab his collar and shake him till those delicious chocolate eyes are in the same hole.
Spencer continues, "Fat Johnny the entrepreneur. He owns all kinds of food businesses. You know, Down Muffin?"
"Fat Johnny is Down Muffin?" Freddie is clearly impressed now.
"Yep," Spencer replies.
"Man, those things are the Gallini pies of muffins," Freddie says.
I know what Spencer is about to do and I brace myself. Spencer being Spencer jumps up and launches into the Down Muffin jingle:
"You ain't seen nothin'!'" and he plays air guitar, grinding for feedback.
What I don't expect is Gibby joining in. Gibby whips his tee shirt off leaving no doubt he's definitely heavier, and steps to Spencer, he starts slapping his own air guitar and singing: "You AIN"T seen nothin'!"
They stare each other down like they are going to wrestle on the floor, each one strumming the air trading off:
Spencer: "I said you ain't seen nothin'!'"
Gibby: "Tell me you ain't seen nothin'!"
They are so into it I can kind of hear feedback.
Freddie joins them in the center of the room, he's got his Pear phone out framing a photo or maybe the movie app: "Do it! Can't stop now!"
Then, Carly runs over with them and sings: "You know you ain't seen nothin'!" She's holding her empty glass in front of her face, faking a microphone.
And they all look at me. I add flatly, "You ain't seen nothing.'"
It doesn't even slow them down. They don't need me. He doesn't need me. Freddie continues filming with his phone while the other three harmonize like cats screwing in an alley:
"Till you're dooooowwwwwwn on the muffin!" they stretch out the sound so that if I didn't know what they were saying it would sound like a choir made up of people with speech problems.
The famous finish of the Down Muffin add is that the big-lipped singer who made the song a hit looks into the camera, takes a big-lipped bite out of a giant muffin and winks at the camera. Carly, Gibby and Spencer all cram their heads into Freddies' Pear phone space and pretend to take a bite out of an invisible muffin then wink like the choir with speech problems got hit with pepper spray.
"Shoosh Yeah!" Freddie shouts, "iCarly Lives!"
And the four of them are all falling together, laughing and hugging.
I look at Carly with a WTF face.
"What?" Carly says, "They're great muffins!"
I sit away from them even farther outside the window than before.
They all go back to their seats and Spencer continues, "Anyway, Sam took over this coffee shop Fat Johnny owns and has really turned it around."
"That's fantastic. You always had a flair for business. Man, the way you mobilized those kids when we did the penny tees—amazing. Combine that with your affection for food—talk about a win/win," Freddie says. He looks really interested, he is practically leaking nice all over the floor.
"You called it a sweat shop," I fire back. I want him angry, like me. I own angry Freddie.
"Well, it was a sweat shop, but you ran it like a machine. A child abusing machine, but a machine," he says.
"Child abuse? You think I'd abuse children?" I'm squeezing my palms so hard they have to be bleeding.
He looks surprised, "I was just joking around Sam, you're great with kids."
Carly speaks with this really panicked look on her face, "Sam volunteers at a shelter for abused children."
Freddie looks at me with an almost lunatic grin, "That's wonderful, I can't imagine what that's like,"
"That's right, you can't," I spit. "You nev…"
Spencer cuts me off and his face is like begging me to shut-up. "And she's getting ready to graduate."
"Wow, congratulations," Freddie says.
"Didn't think I could do it?"
Freddie smiles at me, "I always thought you could do it."
You always believed in me.
The room is wound tight and Carly says, "We've got reservations at Shade in an hour. It's a nice restaurant, so you two need to change," she points at Freddie and Gibby.
"Well, It's been an hour, I need fresh underwear anyway," Charming Freddie says and everyone except me laughs.
Gibby and Fredswine go across the hall to the Benson apartment. As soon as the door closes Carly is in my face. "What was that just now? I can't do a whole night of this!"
"I didn't ask him back here, you did! You set me up!"
Carly smiles, "Yes I did, with perfect bait that I knew you couldn't resist," she is glowing with satisfaction.
"I can resist Freddenstein no prob."
"I was referring to the restaurant, you didn't know about Freddie when I asked you to go to dinner," she says it with a whole bunch of "Gotcha."
"I'm not sure I'm going," I say.
It's like I didn't even speak, "He looks great, don't you think?" She adds. "Did you see those arms? That vein? I wonder if he has any tattoos."
"Probably, 'I heart Galaxy Wars.'"
"Sam, if you won't talk to him can you just be nice? Please?"
"I didn't see anything worth talking to. Why did you ask him back here?"
"Why? Sam, I've watched you work so hard, but you're so sad. You sleep here, go to work, to school, you don't date, you just eat, work and sleep."
"Yeah, it took a while to get used to you working," Spencer says.
We both give him the "stink eye."
"Guess I'll go change," Spencer makes a thumb point to his room. He's already dressed for the restaurant but he leaves us in the living room.
When he's gone I say, "You know Carls, it wasn't that great a relationship."
If I had just cracked open my own skull and pulled out my brain she could not have made a stranger face.
"What? We fought a lot." Carly has started cleaning up, picking up our glasses.
"You were perfect. You were adorable." She walks the glasses to the dishwasher.
We were happy.
"You know, maybe you shouldn't go to the restaurant," she says.
"What! You can't stop me; I wouldn't miss it for anything."
"Ahhh! You are impossible! Aren't you even curious about him? At one point you expected him to come back, well he's back now." She puts the special lemonade in the refrigerator.
"He's a nub, scratch off the new muscles, and he's just the dishrag geek wearing a janky earring."
"Did you look at that earring?"
"It doesn't go with anything I own."
She sighed, "Sam, his earring is a little silver ham."
!
I hate him.
A/N Let me know what worked and what doesn't if you get the time. I've got chapters five and six underway.