Author's note: See if you guys can spot the homage to the TWoP forums.
"This is a really nice place," she murmered, looking around.
"So," Jason continued, "your room opens into a den, thought we could use that for the nursery...and there's another room down the hall that the nanny could use--"
"Nanny?" Sam repeated. "We're--we're going to have a nanny?"
"Well, uh, you know, just until you learn about taking care of kids. I mean, when I was raising Michael, I don't think I would have managed at all without a nanny," Jason said.
"Yeah, no, that makes sense," she agreed. "Hey, um, you want to play some pool?" she asked, glancing at the pool table.
Jason raised an eyebrow, and Sam flushed, remembering their last game...and how it had ended. "Or maybe not," she muttered. "Yeah, that's a bad idea."
The doorbell rang. Jason went to answer it. "Hey, Uncle Jason!" a little boy with red hair said as he and Carly Corinthos walked in.
"Hey, Michael," Jason said easily, then glanced towards Sam. Sam just stared at him. It wasn't like she knew what to do.
Jason solved the problem. "Uh, Michael, I want you to meet someone. This is Sam."
"Hello," Michael said.
"Hi, nice to meet you," Sam said as she shook his hand.
"Dad said that you were pregnant."
Well, this kid knew how to get straight to the point. "Yeah, yeah, I am," Sam said.
Jason added. "Yeah, you're going to have a little cousin to play with."
"Cool!" Michael said, grinning. Sam breathed a sigh of relief. At least someone was thrilled for them.
Carly interrupted. "Hey, Jason, I was wondering, since you're not going to the benefit, if you wouldn't mind staying with Michael and Morgan that night."
Jason straightened. "I'd love to, but I can't."
"Why not?" Michael asked.
"Well...because Sam and I are going to the banquet too."
Carly's eyes grew huge. "You're what? But--Courtney's hosting the benefit."
Sam stared at the floor. "She invited us," Jason said calmly.
"You know what?" Sam cut in. "I have to...um...go see someone. I'll be back soon."
She stepped around Carly and left the apartment, gently shutting the door behind her.
Hesitantly, she walked in the door. Sam wasn't sure how welcome she'd be in here, but she had to stop by and see him.
Coleman glanced up, then looked back down at the glass he was polishing. "You're back."
"Yeah, I am." Sam walked up to the bar. "Jason found me in Costa Rica, and uh, we talked, and I agreed to move in with him."
"So, what, you came here to ask me to help you pick out your coffin? You know, I could get you a really good deal—"
"Coleman, don't." Sam said, sighing. "Look, I appreciate all your help, but it didn't do any good. Jason still found me. What was I supposed to do, keep running for the rest of my life?"
Coleman glared at her. "I'll tell you what you're not supposed to do: move in with that guy."
Sam stared down at her feet. "Jason's not that bad," she said quietly.
Coleman laughed in disbelief. "Not that bad... baby, he's dead inside. Dead, you hear me? Have you ever looked into that man's eyes? I have, darling, and let me tell you what I saw: nothing."
Sam swallowed hard. "Look, I just came here to tell you that I'm back in town, and that I'm all right. I didn't come here to fight."
Coleman shook his head and set the glass down. He braced his hands on the wood, and looked up. "How's the baby?"
Sam smiled softly. "All right. I had a slight scare in Costa Rica, though."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, I—fell down the stairs. Long story."
"But you're all right?" Coleman asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, smiling. "Hey, I almost forgot to ask—did you find the treasure?"
Coleman sighed, loudly. "Didn't have a chance. Right after you left, Emily Quartermaine and Nikolas Cassadine discovered the ships."
"Oh, man," Sam said, disappointed. "I'm sorry, Coleman."
He waved a hand. "Don't worry about it. Besides," he added, grinning, "a few of those coins were, uh, misplaced, if you catch my drift."
Sam grinned at him. "Not bad."
At that moment, a large man in a suit walked in. "Ms. McCall?"
Sam turned around. "Yes, that's me."
"I'm Max. Mr. Morgan sent me after you."
Coleman snorted. "Here we go."
"Excuse me?" Sam said in disbelief. "He what?"
"He sent me after you. I'm your new bodyguard, and Mr. Morgan, he was worried when he heard you were coming here—"
Sam threw up her hands. "Unbelievable. He had me followed?"
"I told you," Coleman interjected. "I told you this was going to happen."
Sam folded her arms, defiant. "All right, and I suppose you're here to save me from the big, bad bartender?"
"Nice alliteration," Coleman commented.
Max shifted his weight. "Ms. McCall—"
"Oh, call me Sam. Why be formal with the woman you're about to drag off like some caveman?" She turned to Coleman. "You got a phone?"
Jason was in the middle of a meeting with Sonny when his cell phone rang. "Hello?"
"Who the hell do you think you are?" an angry female voice yelled on the other end. "You're having me followed, you send your goon after me—"
"Well, what are you doing at Jake's? You're pregnant, for Christ's sake!" Jason shot back.
"I wasn't going to get tanked, Jason, I just came to talk to Coleman!"
"Well, that's not good either!" Jason said. "Sam, listen to me, you cannot trust that guy—"
"Sure I can," Sam responded. "You know what, Jason? I do trust Coleman. I trust him a hell of a lot more than I trust you right now, and if you ever, ever pull a stunt like this again, you will regret it."
Click. Jason stared at the phone for a moment. "She hung up," he said blankly.
"She, uh, didn't take it well, huh?" Sonny concluded.
"Nope," he admitted. "Jesus, I told her she would need protection—and why does she like Coleman so much, anyway?"
Sonny just shrugged in response.
Jason grabbed his jacket. "I've got to go get her."
"Good luck," Sonny called after him.
When Jason arrived at Jake's, Sam was sitting at the bar, chatting with Coleman. "Sam, what are you doing?"
Sam turned to face him, her entire stance one of defiance. "Talking with my friend Coleman. We've been doing some shots, smoking some cigarettes...we're about to shoot up some cocaine next, so if you want to join us..."
"Sam--"
"You had your goons follow me," she snarled. "You spied on me, then you sent your goons after me to bring me home like some wayward child."
"Sam, we talked about this. You need protection—"
"And I understand that, but you have no right to treat me as though I'm a piece of property!" she yelled at him.
"You're carrying my kid! I have a right to worry—"
Sam slid off the stool, fire in her gaze. "Let's get something straight, Jason. You do not have the right to tell me where to go, or who I can talk to. If you can't deal with that, then maybe it's a good thing we find out now." She folded his arms, waiting for his answer.
He made one last stab. "It's a bar, Sam."
"It's a bar that isn't even open, and besides, I just came here to talk to Coleman."
"About what?" he asked.
"None of your business," Sam responded.
"Max is still going to be your bodyguard," he told her.
"Fine. And I talk to whoever I want to."
He sighed. "Fine. Now, we have to go shopping. Unless you've got a dress for the benefit already..."
"So, um, what exactly do you do?" Sam asked on the way to the stores. "Like, seriously."
Jason shrugged. "We import coffee."
Sam rolled her eyes. Did he seriously expect her to believe that? "Come on, Jason, for real. What do you and Cor--Sonny really do?"
Jason leaned back against the seat. "We, uh, we're smugglers. The coffee is a front."
"Well, what do you smuggle?" Sam asked with curiousity.
Jason glanced at her for a moment. Then he turned his gaze back to the road. "Bootleg porn. Gay porn, mostly."
Sam's eyes grew huge. No way. "Bootleg what?"
"Pretty lucrative business," Jason said casually, as if they were dicussing the weather. "Lot more money in it than you would think."
She could only stare at him. Did--did this mean--was he playing for the other team? But...he sure as hell hadn't been faking that night in Jake's...maybe he swung both ways.
Okay, so the father of her child was possibly gay or bisexual. This could work. It was the twenty-first century. Things like this were more common now, she could make this work. "So, ahem...you're..."
Just then, she saw the slightest smile quirking at his lips and quickly realized--"You bastard!" she cried out, smacking him on the arm.
He started chuckling. "You should have seen the look on your face...you looked like you were about to choke."
Sam fumed. "Very funny, Jason."
"It was, wasn't it?" Jason asked, smiling at her.
"Okay, then, what do you smuggle for real?"
He sighed. "Anything the other guy wants. Mostly weapons. But once, a couple years ago, we really did have to ship gay porn for this really old, really rich customer. You should have seen the look on Sonny's face when he heard...his ears still turn red if you ever mention it."
"Ever sell drugs?" Sam asked.
"No," Jason said firmly. "No way. Sonny won't allow it."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "A mob boss with principles? That's...unusual."
Jason didn't comment as he went into the parking lot. "We're here," he said.
Dress shopping. Almost four hours of shopping and she still hadn't found a dress. Jason had gotten a tux and shoes within the first half-hour, why couldn't she find a dress?
Jason leaned back in his chair. "Sam, you done yet?"
"Just a second!" she called out. Finally, she stepped outside and--"Whoa," he said quietly.
She looked absolutely gorgeous. Sam was wearing this silver dress, and her hair was tumbling down around her shoulders, and the material was just clinging to her curves and--wow.
She smiled at him. "Yeah? It's—it's okay?"
He nodded. "Definitely."
"Are you just saying this so you can get the hell out of here?" she asked, tilting her head to the side in a way that made her glossy hair slide around her face.
"No," Jason said. "I'm saying this because...because you look great." And then he smirked slightly. "And because I want to get the hell out of here."
She laughed. "Okay, okay, you win. We're out of here."
"Thank God," he muttered loudly as she went back into the dressing room.
Sam yelled over her shoulder, "I heard that!"
"Okay," Sam said slowly inside the limo. "What's the game plan here? We—we make an appearance, and then leave as soon as we can?"
"Yeah, pretty much," Jason agreed. He glanced at her, her face drawn tight with apprehension. "Listen...this'll be fine."
She sighed. "Okay."
The limo stopped. "All right, we're here," Jason said. "Let's do this." He stepped out of the limo and offered her his hand. Sam took it, Sam stepped out, nearly stumbling but regained her footing at the last minute.
The first thing Sam was aware of as they walked into the room was the quiet. The way people stared at her and Jason, then would immediately start whispering among themselves. Silently willing herself not to blush, Sam focused simply on not tripping on her dress.
Courtney appeared in front of them, looking fantastic. "Wow, you guys made it."
"Yeah, well, we said we'd be here," Jason said.
"And here we are," Sam finished. "This all looks...really amazing. You guys did a great job."
"Thanks," Courtney said, smiling a bit awkwardly. "Um...Sonny and Carly are already here, dinner will be served in about an hour, you can get drinks at the bar...or, um, non-alcoholic drinks are available too..."
Sam quickly decided the best option was to get out of this as soon as possible. "Hey, you know what? I actually am kind of thirsty, so, uh, I'll go and get some water."
"I'll go with you--" Jason offered, but Sam waved a hand.
"No, no, that's all right. You can, um, stay here." And with that, Sam quickly left the two of them alone.
God, that was awkward as hell. Sam hadn't even been here five minutes and she was already miserable. What was she doing here? Sam was a con artist, a hustler--she didn't belong at fancy, black-tie events.
Okay. All right, so they'd made their appearance. Maybe she could talk Jason into leaving earlier than they'd planned...Sam walked up to the bar, where there wasn't anyone there except for an older blonde woman sipping champane. "Hey, um, could I just have a glass of water with a twist of lemon, please?"
As the bartender went to get it, the older woman standing next to Sam said, "Fabulous champane, I highly recommend it."
Sam smiled ruefully. "Can't, I--"
"I'm sorry, but Sam can't drink. Not in her condition."
Sam's shoulders stiffened. Carly. God. Pasting a tight smile on her face, Sam turned to face her. "Hey, Carly."
Carly's answering smile was just as tight. "Hello, Sam. Dr. Quartermaine."
Sam's eyes widened. Oh, no. Of all the things to happen...clearly, Sam had the worst luck ever. Of all the people to run into, she had to run right into a member of Jason's family? Jason's estranged family? And Carly too?
She was so screwed.
"Carly," Dr. Quartermaine said coolly. Judging from the looks the two were giving each other, they didn't seem to get along all that well. That didn't surprise Sam, as she didn't think anyone could get along well with Carly.
"Sam," Carly said, "I'd like to introduce you to Dr. Monica Quartermaine, Jason's mother."
Sam, who had been taking a sip of her water, nearly choked. Jesus. "Uh, nice to meet you--"
"Likewise," Dr. Quartermaine rsponded, looking slightly bewildered as to why Carly was bothering to introduce her to her son's date.
Sam knew why Carly was doing this though. And if she wasn't desperately trying to figure out a way to get out of this situation, she'd almost admire Carly's nerve.
"So," Carly continued with a big grin on her face, "have you heard the good news?"
At that precise moment, Sam's heart stopped in her chest.
Dr. Quartermaine blinked, looking from Carly to Sam to Carly again. "Um, no, I haven't."
"Carly," Sam muttered, trying to head her off.
"Sam's pregnant," Carly said abruptly.
To say that Dr. Quartermaine looked surprised would have been a huge understatement. "Excuse me?" she finally managed to get out, her voice strangled.
"She's pregnant. You know, knocked up? Got a bun in the oven? Yeah, she's about, what, three months now?"
Sam was silently praying to God to just let the ground swallow her up whole. Or maybe He could just strike Carly dead. Either scenario would work for her.
Dr. Quartermaine looked as if she didn't know what to think, much less say. "Is...um...is the child..."
"Jason's?" Carly finished for her. "Yeah, unfortunately it is." She knocked back half of her glass of champane.
Now Dr. Quartermaine looked as if she could easily faint. Sam decided to make as graceful an exit as possible. "Excuse me," she said, staring at the floor, the wall, anything other than the soon-to-be grandmother of her unborn child, "I have to go--somewhere that isn't here."
Pushing through the crowd, Sam went outside into the gardens. The June night was warm, with a slight breeze cooling her flushed cheeks.
Holy shit. How had that happened? And what the hell was Carly's problem? Clearly, that woman wasn't playing with a full deck of cards, or maybe she just had a black hole where her sense of compassion and respect for others should have been.
The look on Monica Quartermaine's face...
Shaking slightly, Sam stumbled towards the nearest bench...only to find that it was already occupied. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said, trying to be polite. "I didn't know anyone was here."
"No, it's okay," the man said. He was a good-looking guy, from what Sam could tell in this darkness. Dark hair, classic good looks, with a cleft in his chin... "Formal events aren't really my thing...so here I am, hiding out here. I take it you're out here for the same reason?"
"Yeah," Sam admitted with a shaky laugh. "That and the fact that there's someone in there who seems completely determined to make my life a living hell."
The guy winced. "Ouch. Sorry to hear it. Hey, listen...you know, we can share this bench, if you don't mind."
"You sure?"
"Yeah," the guy said, giving her a quick smile. "Absolutely."
Sam sat down on the stone bench. "Thanks. I'm Sam, by the way," she said, offering her hand.
The guy took it. "Nice to meet you. I'm Lucky. Lucky Spencer."
Author's note: Dun dun dun! Told you Lucky was going to show up.