Laura returns to Jean's apartment at 9 pm, finding her sitting in bed propped up on some pillows reading a law journal article for a presentation she is required to give at semester's end. "You were gone a while. How was dinner with the fam?" Jean asks.
Laura lets out a resounding sigh as she strips off her clothing and tugs on a t-shirt and leggings. "Dinner was fine, right up until we discovered Sandra created a profile on a dating site using my picture and the name 'Laurie Adama' so that she and her friends could chat with older men."
"No shit! What was she thinking?"
"That's what I asked her! And, get this, apparently by day I'm a law student and by night I'm an exotic dancer so that I can pay my tuition, plus I love to give lap dances. They've chatted with well over 100 men in the last month, and there are over 2000 views of my profile, plus hundreds have saved it as a favorite! Gods! I'm still so pissed off talking about it. Daddy had to leave the room he was so mad."
"What if someone sees you and recognizes you? Especially now that you're around campus – I'm sure there are tons of college students on those dating sites. Maybe even a few professors."
"Ahhhhh! Don't tell me that!" Laura exclaims slipping into bed.
Jean doesn't respond, instead flipping the page on her journal article.
"I'm sorry, are you studying? I can go in the other room if you need me to," Laura offers.
"I'm about done – I just wanted to read through this again so it's fresh in my head when I sleep. Helps me retain things."
"I'll be quiet."
Jean continues to study while Laura reaches for a book on her nightstand to occupy herself until her friend is available to talk again. She doesn't read the book but stares at the pages pretending to read while her mind wanders. Laura Adama. Sounds weird. Laurie Adama. Sounds better. Laura Roslin-Adama. That has a nice ring to it. She tries to imagine herself as an exotic dancer wondering if she has the flexibility to work a pole like the dancers she has seen at the few strip clubs she has visited. I bet you have to be in really good shape to do that every night. There's a place a few blocks from campus called 'Flirty Fitness' that teaches enrollees how to pole dance, mainly as a way to get in shape, but some people have progressed enough that they dance at clubs for extra cash. Maybe I'll ask Jean to check it out with me.
"Laura? Are you there?" Jean asks placing a hand on her shoulder.
"Huh?"
"I've been talking to you for the last minute but you're spaced out. I'm done reading."
"Oh, sorry. I was thinking."
"Yeh, I recognize the look. What are you going to do about the dating profile?"
"Daddy and I looked into the rules and regulations and decided it's best to report it as a fraudulent account. It'll be removed by the administrators and all the people who have interacted with the profile will be notified that it was fake. They will also block all the IP addresses that logged into the account so that they can't create another one. We thought that was better than just deleting it. But Daddy is going to notify the school that Sandra and her friends did this while in class. She won't give up who her friends are that accessed the account, but the school may have a pretty good idea who they are."
"I know she's not in school for the rest of the semester, but that could get pretty ugly for her when she goes back in the fall."
"Not sure Daddy wants her to go back to that school. He has time to figure that out, though."
"Other than that, how was everything else tonight?"
"Good. Cheryl was happy to see me, and it's always good to see Aunt Sara. Daddy even cooked the meal, wore an apron and everything. He tried to give me back my housekey when I left, but I asked him to hang onto it a bit longer. I don't want to be tempted to run back there if something doesn't go right."
"Hmmm, Dave in an apron…" Jean says with a small smile on her face.
"Don't tell me you still have a crush on my dad."
"Of course I do, especially now that his hair has gotten a little gray around the temples. You know how I like older men."
"No, Jean, it's just wrong. It was funny when you were a teenager, but now it's sort of disturbing."
"Why? We're both adults. He's young enough he'll date again someday."
"We're not talking about my dad dating. It's too soon."
"Yeh, it's too soon right now, but a year from now it won't be. Your dad's hot, Laura, and he's smart and has a career – he's a good catch. I'd be surprised if he doesn't remarry someday."
"We're not talking about this."
"Laura, what's the problem? He's going to date again someday. He's around women all the time since he's a professor. At the very least he'll wind up banging a college student or two. Everyone needs to get laid."
"Ewww! No, Jean, stop!"
"Do you remember that time I went on summer vacation with your family in high school and we saw him and your mom having sex? The guy has stamina. I watched them for at least an hour."
"Be quiet."
"I'm just saying – if he's still single in a few years, I may invite myself to a few family dinners. I could wind up being your stepmom. Then I could kick your ass for real."
Laura drops her head back and laughs out loud. "Then I'd never want the housekey back! I'd never go home again!"
"You wouldn't want to see your twelve half-siblings?".
"You're trying to get rid of me! If you don't want me to move in with you, just say so!"
"No, actually, now that I think about it, I want you to move in with me. That way I can see Dave more often," Jean laughs, unable to keep a straight face anymore.
"Are you serious? I can move in with you?"
"Sure, but let's do it on a month-to-month basis. You'll have to fill out an application and get on the lease."
"I'll do it tomorrow. Thanks."
"It hasn't been horrible having you here. But I'm still crushing on your dad – I wasn't kidding about that."
"Hmmmm," Laura grumbles, giving her a dirty look.
"Have you contacted Bill?"
"No, after the dating site fiasco, I was so angry I didn't think it was a good time to contact him. And now it's getting late, so I'll wait until tomorrow."
Jean gives her friend a disapproving look.
"I know what you're thinking, but I'm not delaying this because I'm scared. I mean, I am nervous about contacting him, but I also want to be in the right frame of mind. I'll do it tomorrow and if I don't, you can yell at me."
"Do it before 3 – I work 4-10 tomorrow."
"Alright, before 3. I promise."
Jean rises from the bed and strips off her clothes, then climbs back under the covers.
"I was hoping you were going to leave your clothes on tonight," Laura says sinking down into the bed and placing the pillow between them. "Don't be afraid to try something different."
"Or you could try something different and sleep naked," Jean replies after yawning.
Laura narrows her eyes at Jean's back, trying to force her to feel her stare. When she gets no response, she says, "You talked me into it." She quickly strips off her clothes and pulls the covers up to her chin. "Now we're both naked."
"Goodnight, Laura."
They both gasp for air after breaking their long, passionate kiss, their foreheads pressed together while lying next to each other. When Bill's eyes meet hers, they smile softly at one other, then his hand on the back of her neck pulls her face to his again for another sensual kiss. His hand brushes from her neck down her side to her leg, where he lifts it gently over his hip, allowing him to enter her while he stares into her eyes. She wraps her arm around him, melting into him as he establishes a rhythm with his thrusts.
"Bill?" she asks with concern. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong."
"Why are you so mushy?" she asks, pressing her hand into his back and noticing it easily sinking into him.
"I ate a lot of pie and got chubby."
"At the café?"
"Yes, I'm a regular there. I eat an entire pie every night, sometimes two. Is that a problem?"
"No, it just seems like you got chubby really fast."
"Because I eat the pie really fast. You could eat pie with me, then we could both be chubby."
"I can't pole dance if I'm chubby. Nobody will give me money to pay my tuition."
"Maybe after you graduate you can start eating pie with me."
"I will. I like pie."
"So, you're okay with chubby Bill?"
"Yes. I love you, chubby Bill."
Laura tightens her grip around him as his thrusts increase in intensity, her body building toward her climax. Suddenly, she's hit in the head with a pillow.
"What the frak?" she yells, her eyes popping open to see Jean glaring at her from her side of the bed.
"You better not be having that sex dream about me!" Jean yells back.
"Ugghhhh!" Laura exclaims, her arms and legs wrapped around the large pillow separating her from Jean. "No, I was dreaming about having sex with Bill, and he was fat because he ate a lot of pie. Dammit, you woke me before my orgasm!"
Jean gives her a blank stare for several seconds before speaking. "I don't even know what to say to that. When is your next therapy appointment?"
"Shut up. It was just a weird dream. Go back to sleep."
"Nahhhh, it's almost 6 so I think I'll get up and go to the library. That way you can have some alone time with pillow-Bill." She stands and pulls on a robe before walking to the bathroom. "And if you have any trouble having an orgasm with your pillow lover, there's a vibrator in the top drawer of my nightstand. The toy cleaner is in the medicine cabinet for when you're finished."
Of course you have a vibrator in your nightstand. Laura hugs the pillow closer after Jean shuts the bathroom door, closing her eyes hoping to return to her dream. Unfortunately, she's wide awake now so she gets out of bed, pulls her t-shirt and leggings back on, then heads to the kitchen for breakfast.
"Sandra, get up," Dave says trying to pull his daughter out of bed. "You need to shower and finish your schoolwork so you're ready for the counselor this afternoon."
"I've finished my schoolwork for the entire week. Let me sleep," she groans pulling the covers over her head.
"You can sleep for another hour, but then you need to get up and do something. You're not going to lie around feeling sorry for yourself all day."
"Whatever. Nothing else to do," she mumbles.
"You can help me with some grading. And you can start working on the scrapbook you mentioned. Or get some exercise."
"Ah," she coughs flinging the covers from her face and turning to look at her dad. "Are you saying I'm getting fat?"
"No, that's not what I'm saying. Lying around doing absolutely nothing isn't healthy for anyone of any age let alone a bright 15-year-old who tends to get into trouble when she's bored."
"Then give me my phone back so I'm not bored."
"No, not for a while. Show me you can be productive around here and we'll discuss your phone again in a few weeks."
As he's about to leave her room he hears her mumble, "You're such a hardass. Momma never would have taken my phone away."
It stops him in his tracks and he covers his mouth with his hand to keep from snapping at her. He then turns back toward her bed, grabbing the covers and pulling them off her. "Get up! Now! Don't you dare try to manipulate me like that again!"
"Fine! I'm getting up, see?" she says standing from the bed. "I'll go take a shower!" She stomps to the bathroom slamming the door behind her.
"Everything okay in here, Dave?" Sara asks poking her head inside the bedroom door.
Dave stares back at her letting out a long sigh while shaking his head. "It's gonna be a long day."
"She's really good at pushing your buttons and she knows it. Don't back down. She has to learn that you are the disciplinarian now."
"I just hope she gets through this phase soon."
"I hate to tell you this but it's probably going to get worse before it gets better. She's an angry teenager."
"Do you regret coming here?"
"No, I wish you had called me sooner. Your family's in crisis, little brother. Makes my problems look trivial."
"Is Cheryl ready for daycare? Her ride will be here soon."
"About that…" Sara says just as Cheryl crawls on all fours in her bear outfit, growling past the door. "She insisted on the bear costume and as soon as she put it on, she quit talking."
"I'm not going to fight with her about it today. If she wants to be a bear, she can be a bear. Maybe the daycare can do a better job handling it."
"Alright, I'll load her in the van when it arrives, then I'm off to work. Call me if you need anything, or if you just want someone to talk to. I can spare a few minutes here and there."
"I will. Thanks, Sara."
After an early morning run followed by a lengthy shower, Laura situates herself at Jean's desk and begins looking through her dissertation notes and the draft she was working on before shelving it over a month ago. Gods, I sound so pretentious. If she plans on graduating in the summer, a good half of what she's completed will need to be rewritten. Looking back through her notes again, she uses a different color pen and begins to scribble even more notes in the margins, hoping that by doing so, she can figure out a different direction to take things. Her research had solely focused on reintroducing classic literature to high schoolers, something that had been abandoned years ago in favor of more modern literature. But modern literature is watered down and has a very contrived feel to it, whereas classical literature teaches a stronger lesson. By why just high schoolers? Why not introduce it to middle schoolers and maybe even upper elementary? Some of the subject matter will still need to be watered down, but maybe the novels can be rewritten in a way to be more age-appropriate so that they create discussion about content. She wants children to think, communicate, debate, and problem-solve. The idea of rewriting classic novels intrigues her, so she decides to email her advisor to set a time to talk on Thursday afternoon.
Jean returns to the apartment as Laura is finishing up lunch. "Have you contacted Bill yet?" is the first thing she says.
"No, I've been looking over my research and coming up with different ideas. He's in training right now anyway."
"Laura! You promised you'd contact him before 3. Send him a text."
"I still don't know what to say."
"Keep it simple. If you want to meet with him Friday, let him know."
"Hmmmmmm," Laura hums as she pulls out her phone and clicks on Bill's name to send a text. She types for a little while, then stops and thinks, then types again. "Alright, how about this?" she asks showing Jean the text.
"I like it. Short and to the point. It leaves it up to him if he wants to see you again, makes you sound less needy."
"Good. I'm sending it now. And I'm not needy. If I screwed it up enough that he doesn't show, then I'll move on with my life. If he does show up, I can at least tell him how I feel about him, even if it's the last time we see each other."
"How do you feel about him?"
Laura takes the last bite of her salad and chews it slowly as she thinks. She never does answer Jean's question.
"Sandra! Your counselor is here," Dave calls from the foyer.
Sandra appears at the doorway to her bedroom where she has been sulking for the better part of the morning after her father tried to task her with some simple grading of multiple-choice history exams. As she graded, she sighed loudly, made annoying sounds, and sometimes even commented that his students were stupid. After 10 minutes of her attitude, Dave informed her that she lost another week of phone privileges and when she protested, he threatened to take her phone away for the remainder of the 8 weeks of house arrest. She stormed from his office down the steps to her bedroom, slamming the door and turning up the music streaming on her computer. He repeatedly told her to turn the volume down, but she dug in her heels, so he came into her room and nonchalantly removed her computer.
"I need that for school," she informed him.
"You said you were done with schoolwork for the week. You can have it back Monday. And if you slam another door in this house, I'll remove your bedroom door."
She spent the rest of the morning plotting her revenge against her father, until she fell asleep on her bed and was awakened by him at lunchtime. She refused to join him at the table so he placed her sandwich in a container and put it in the fridge. He then brought his grading from his office to the kitchen table so he could catch her if she tried to sneak food. "You can either sit at this table and eat, or you can go hungry." She chose to go hungry.
"Hi, Dr. Roslin, I'm Charlotte and I'm here to see Sandra. How is she doing today?"
"It's nice to meet you, Charlotte. You can call me Dave. She's being very defiant today, expending a lot of energy to get under my skin."
"I see. Is there a place where Sandra and I can meet in private and, preferably, not her bedroom?"
"My office upstairs, on the right. Good luck. I'll be down here grading papers."
Forty-five minutes later, Sandra stomps down the steps to her bedroom, carefully shutting the door. Charlotte slowly comes down the steps with her briefcase, meeting Dave in the foyer.
"How'd it go?" he asks.
Charlotte purses her lips as she shakes her head. "She didn't say a word to me the whole time."
"I honestly don't know what to do. Can you give me any advice at all?"
"Is there anyone she will listen to? Maybe another family member or a teacher? This is court ordered therapy, so if she isn't willing to participate, she's going to wind up in juvenile detention for the next several weeks. I told her that and it didn't even phase her. Keep a close eye on her. Here's my contact information," she says handing him a business card. "I don't have to file my weekly report with the judge until Monday so if you can convince her to speak with me before then, even just for a few minutes, then I can tell the judge we had a satisfactory first session."
"Can you wait here for a few minutes? I want to give it one last try before you leave."
"Sure, this is my last session of the day and we finished early since she refused to talk. I can wait around."
Dave goes to Sandra's room and shuts the door behind him. When he sits on the edge of the bed, she rolls away from him to avoid looking at him.
"Do you want to go to juvenile detention?" he asks her, staring at the back of her head. When he doesn't get any response, he says, "Because if you do, tell me right now. I'll tell Charlotte to file her report with the judge immediately and you can be placed there tonight."
"You'd actually let them take me to juvenile detention?!"
"I won't have a choice! If you don't talk to the counselor, the judge will send you to detention for the next several weeks. There's nothing I can do to stop that. Sandra, I don't want you to go. Cheryl doesn't want you to go. Neither do Laurie or Aunt Sara. So, if you don't want to go, talk to the counselor. She's still in the foyer. What's it going to be?"
Sandra rolls over to face him, staring him down to see if he's bluffing. When he doesn't budge, she says, "Fine. I'll talk to her," and walks out of her room and up the steps to his office.