Sam Puckett stamped off in the direction of the master bedroom. For the first time in years, she was throwing a tantrum.
"…Sammmm…"
Shrieking followed. Carly, acutely aware that she had caused this, did her best to return things to an even keel, following close behind.
"…Sammmm… Honeyyyy… please listen…"
Sam was tired of listening. She loved Carly more than words, but she was emotionally worn out. She turned on her heel in the middle of the hall, nearly knocking the brunette off balance. They locked eyes intently. Sam's brain told her she needed to make Carly understand. Her heart knew that Carly already did. Her tone was clipped and gruff, but it was the Sam Puckett that Carly had fallen in love with long ago.
"I'm goin' out… I'll be back later… I love you…"
The blonde kissed her on the mouth – deeply and hard – as though it could very well be the very last time.
"I love you…"
Carly knew. This had happened before, though not in years. She knew that Sam would be back.
"I know…"
Carly knew that Sam had problems, no matter how hard she tried to hide them. She knew that life with Pam Puckett as a mother had left her beautiful blonde with a complex. She was secure in Sam's love for her. When their mouths separated, Carly let Sam leave. She knew Sam had to deal with things on her own terms. Now out of sight, Carly could hear Sam's leather jacket being snatched from its usual place beside the front door, followed by an abrupt slam.
With that – a hurricane of controlled blonde rage – Sam Puckett was gone, leaving Carly to her thoughts, if not quite alone.
MEANWHILE, A SHORT DISTANCE AWAY…
Shelby Marx was less than thrilled, but she bounced her little girl in her lap. The toddler clapped happily. Shelby adored being a parent. Here, behind closed doors, she could be herself. The real Shelby Marx – the one who enjoyed mint chocolate chip ice cream, spoke fluent Spanish, enjoyed jazz, and was disturbed by raisins – resided here, her wife at her side.
The former champion was occupied giving long-overdue kisses to her little girl when a vibrating cell phone and Wendy, well-meaning if a little high-strung, piped up.
"Oh….dear…."
Shelby knew that tone. It was the tone Wendy took when sense had gone out of her head and she was again the mother hen who had to fix everything. She shot the redhead a serious look. Words weren't needed, just an arched eyebrow. Wendy continued.
"It's Carly… She and Sam… well, it wasn't a fight, but Sam just stormed out all upset…"
Shelby's jaw clenched. She knew this had to do with two willful, bullheaded, lovesick teenagers who had yet to come home. Shelby knew what to do. She knew fully well that Sam Puckett was a great many things – good, kind, decent, strong, bullheaded in her own right, and viciously loyal, even to a fault – but she also knew that if Sam found their girls wandering the streets of their beloved Seattle before she'd gotten this pent-up angry bitterness out of her system, there'd no doubt be hell to pay. Without a word, she lifted the wiggly little girl from her lap, kissed her on the cheek, and passed her to Wendy.
Shelby's chair pushed away from the table with enough of a rush and significant amount of noise to scare Wendy, if only for a second. The trademark Shelby Marx Tunnel Vision was back. The fighter bounced to her feet quickly, breaking for the door.
"…I'm going out…"
Wendy was worried.
"When will you be back?"
"…Later…"
Shelby grabbed her jacket, bounded out the door, and was gone. Wendy knew Shelby loved her. Shelby's motorcycle roared to life, tires squealing. Wendy knew Shelby would be careful, for her sake, but she also knew that her love had a reckless streak in her rivaled only by Sam Puckett herself.
A SHORT TIME LATER…
Sam Puckett pocketed her keys and threw open the heavy door. She wasn't a juvenile delinquent anymore, though being this close to the Seattle PD still caused the hair on her neck to stand on end.
She flipped the switch, illuminating the space from the fluorescent light overhead. She never bothered to tell Carly that she spent nearly six hundred dollars a month to keep this space. It simply didn't matter. She paid for it out of Uncle Carmine's money, so, she figured, why bother worrying the Cupcake's pretty little head about it?
Surveying the room, it was exactly as she needed it to be. She hadn't been here in a good while, but everything was in its proper place.
"…That's clearly a two-person job, to do it right, I mean… Ya sure ya don't need a little help?..."
A chill ran through Sam Puckett's spine. She spun around immediately, glaring at her longtime friend. She had, as she was prone to do, jumped to the absolutely wrong conclusion. She rambled.
"You fucking followed me here? Carly send you to track me down?"
Shelby Marx swallowed hard, looking from her friend to the floor before answering honestly.
"You're an idiot, Sam…"
Sam's jaw was loose, as though she'd just been slapped. She had that look that Shelby knew well – the look of someone just itching for a fight, no matter what the odds or outcome. Sam spoke as bluntly and as matter-of-factly as ever.
"Yeah, well, fuck you too…"
The insult rolled off Shelby's back like water.
"Look… Carly texted Wendy all… you know, girly and whatever… and I knew you were in one of your fuckin' moods again, and I figured this'd be the first stupid-ass place you'd come…"
The tension lifted, if only for a second, before Sam began ranting again.
"It's all because of the damn… the damn kids…"
Shelby shot her friend a quizzical look.
"Ya think I'm fuckin' thrilled about it? I'd knock her right in the damn head, if I could…"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa… which one you talkin' about there, Champ?..."
Sam Puckett may have been pissed at the world, but friend or no, there were lines that even the great Shelby Marx couldn't cross.
"Mine, not yours…"
Sam chuckled.
"She'd probably knock you on your ass in the process, Champ…"
Shelby laughed.
"You're probably right…"
The two old friends clasped hands in a show of unity, which subsequently evolved into as butch a hug as they could muster. While Carly completed Sam's entire world, there was something to be said for Shelby Marx. She was there when it counted.
MEANWHILE, AT BUSHWELL PLAZA…
Megan Marx had to be having the worst day of her life. She had come here simply because she was at the end of her rope and had nowhere else to go. She knew she was being a stub rag, so she wanted to do her best to give Ashley her own space. School had been an abject disaster, and she had gone to the Puckett house that evening only to find half the adults and the wrong blonde. She'd tried the Elliott Bay Towers, only to be cursed at in Korean. She now found herself here.
She made her way from the elevator, rounded the corner, and finally, at the door leading to Apartment 8-C. She banged impatiently with a closed fist, much the way Sam Puckett had at her age.
On the fourth banging knock, the door swung open to reveal Spencer Shay. Megan interrupted him just as he opened his mouth to speak.
"Sup? My girl here?"
The artist was too flustered to answer her until the young girl had barged her way into the apartment, crossed the living room, and was now rifling the fridge.
"…She's upstairs, in Carly's old room…"
Megan slammed the refrigerator door shut and bolted for the stairs, a slice of cheese pizza now hanging from her lips. Spencer, intent on enjoying what had begun as a quiet evening at home, had settled back in on the sofa with his longtime lady-love, Veronica. He paid attention to the teenager on the stairs only long enough to lecture her in his own way.
"…YOU'RE WELCOME… NOT LIKE WE HAD PLANS OR ANYTHING…"
UPSTAIRS…
Ashley Puckett jumped slightly as she heard the knob turn. She had been crying. She really didn't feel like any undue attention at the moment. She had been as polite as she could, but really didn't want to hear somebody else's opinions right now, no matter how much she loved them. Right now, all she wanted was to see one person.
"…I don't want to talk about it, Auntie Veronica…" she said without looking.
Megan slunk into the room quietly, secretly relishing the ability to surprise the pretty blonde girl.
"Boo…"
Ashley Puckett whipped around at the sound of the familiar voice, no longer burying her face in a blue pillow that read 'CHURCH PANTS'. They didn't need words. The lean, muscular redhead simply folded the blonde girl into her arms and held her. They would talk later.
BACK ON MERCER ISLAND…
Carly knew, in her heart of hearts, that Sam would be back. She rocked quietly in the recliner, though not as severely as she otherwise might. She adjusted her reading glasses and sipped her coffee. Unbeknownst to her, Sam had replaced Carly's usual blend with decaf. Carly could certainly do without the excess agitation tonight. It wasn't until her daughter spoke that Carly remembered that Melanie and Bridget were in the house.
"She'll be home soon, Mommy… it'll be okay…"
Carly responded without even thinking.
"…She's left the room before… but not… not like this…"
It wasn't until Carly looked up from her novel that she realized she had teenagers on either side of her. Bridget Xi was here, along with her own daughter, to buoy her spirits. The petite Korean girl spoke.
"Sam loves you, Missus Puckett…"
Without thinking, Bridget Xi leaned in and kissed Carly Puckett gently on the cheek, as she did with her own mother. Carly blushed, but the simple, innocent gesture had done what Carly needed. The random, panic-stricken feeling had died in her chest. She was comfortable again.
DOWNTOWN SEATTLE…
Sam and Shelby had finished their busywork and left the building. Sam had made it back to her SUV, Shelby to her bike. The champion piped up, already knowing the answer Puckett would give her. It was an exercise in futility, but she felt the need to ask anyway. In all their years of friendship, it had become something of a running inside joke.
"Ya know, that bike of yours really is cherry, Puckett…"
"…still can't have it, Marx..."
Shelby chuckled. Of course she couldn't.
"…I'll pay you five times what it's worth – and it's worth a small fortune as-is…"
Sam and Shelby had spent the last three hours meticulously tinkering with the jet black '64 Sterling to keep it in pristine condition and working order as well as to keep the blonde's idle hands busy with something productive, rather than allow her to focus on her anger. They tinkered with the bike a few times a year, Sam occasionally taking it for a spin, but typically leaving it right where it was – behind lock and key on Thirteenth Avenue, adjacent from Seattle's Finest.
"C'mon, Champ… sentimental value… you know you're never gettin' that bike…"
They let the matter drop.
A SHORT WHILE LATER, BACK ON MERCER ISLAND…
Carly felt something more like herself now that her home was once again filled with teenagers. She was very unhappy with Ashley and Megan, though she knew that she herself had violated her daughter's privacy in the first place. Carly did her best to be the cool mom, calling Mrs. Xi to confirm that Bridget and Melanie had indeed been studying all evening, assuring her that Bridget would be home, safe and sound, before too long. She subsequently called Wendy, informing her that her violent little rogue of a daughter had turned up as well, like a lost little puppy.
She had no sooner ended the call than Carly heard the familiar sound of Sam's car outside.
"…Oh, shit…"
Carly glared at her eldest daughter. Ashley immediately bit her tongue. She knew she shouldn't have. The high-RPM whine of a motorcycle outside further complicated matters.
"…Dammit!..." Megan Marx cursed under her breath. Bridget Xi couldn't resist. She took a pot-shot at the redhead simply because.
"…Oooh, your Mommy's here…"
A FEW SHORT MOMENTS LATER…
"Cupcake! I'm home…"
Carly loved Sam, but insisted on remaining mad at her, if solely on principle. She spoke through gritted teeth.
"… In here, Samantha… and by the way, your daughter finally decided to wander in…"
Sam bypassed the peg typically reserved for her jacket. She made her way into the living room, where she locked eyes with the smaller, younger version of herself. She spoke through clenched teeth of her own, simply to underscore the seriousness of the moment.
"Oh… you're so goddamned grounded, Little Girl…"
Megan Marx gently dropped her girlfriend's hand. She had loved Ashley Grace Puckett all of her life, but the simple fact was that Sam Puckett still possessed the ability to scare the hell out of her on occasion. She stood up, making a feeble attempt to excuse herself.
Shelby Marx's voice rang out from just inside Carly and Sam's front door, her motorcycle helmet temporarily residing on the peg where Sam would normally place her coat.
"…Oh no you don't, Megan Marx… you're sittin' your ass right down next to her while I figure out what I'm doing with you… THEN we're having a nice long chat…"
In the commotion, Melanie and Bridget decided that it was in their collective best interests to fade into the background. Three on two were not good odds, but they both knew that there was nothing they could do; both girls were in the wrong and deserved the lecture that they had coming. Melanie gave her sister's hand a gentle squeeze in passing before they left the room, simply to show, in her own small way, that she didn't wish her sister any undue pain or embarrassment. They both knew they'd talk later, in whispers, as they always did. It had been one hell of a night, and the only way to deal with the present situation – unpleasant as it was – was to face it head on, come whatever may.
It'd be another long night.
