Happy December you guys!
There are many reasons I have been slow on updates but I won't bore you guys with listing them. I'm sorry for the delays but I do promise to keep posting no matter how long it takes! I just hope y'all won't give up on me while I face my struggles! x_x
Anyway, I've kept you guys waiting long enough! Here is (finally lol) a new chapter!
Disclaimer: Totally Spies is not mine even if the Sam/Scam moments that I dream of would make amazing episodes. *sigh*
Her head spun over her shoulder to look at the small window just next to the door of her flat, moving so quickly that she could feel the crick instantly form in her neck.
Resisting the urge to cringe at the dull, aching pain that could already be felt, Sam's beady eyes remained dead set on the small section of the glass pane peeking through the blue and white polka dotted curtains she always kept drawn to discourage nosy passer-bys from glimpsing inside.
Because she couldn't shake the feeling that despite all her thorough precautions she was still being spied on.
The nagging feeling had commenced just ten or so minutes after she'd gotten back home from visiting Dr. Schwartz and going grocery shopping and hadn't left her since. It was like a pair of eyes were physically glued onto her body with JB weld epoxy but she couldn't see nor tell whom they belonged to.
Excusing herself from her daughter for just a second she soundlessly scooted over to the window on the balls of her feet as to not tip off her Peeping Tom before ripping back the curtains with force and a loud "aha" as she uncovered them.
Her eyes bore all the rage of those of a wild mama bear protecting her baby cub from a trespasser and her mouth was wide open on standby mode to hurl a medley of insults at whoever it was who thought it was okay to invade her and her child's privacy.
Pervert!
Creep!
Sicko!
Only … to find no one. Not even a single soul. The crumbling pavement sidewalk outside was totally vacant and even when she pressed the tip of her nose all the way up against the window and glanced left, right, and then clock-wise to survey the street and make sure she wasn't missing something she saw absolutely no one there.
"Odd..." Sam muttered to herself neglecting to check the only place she hadn't, directly downward where she would have found the culprit as plain as day crouching below just under the cracked, brick window sill which was decorated with a single clay pot in which grew the sprouts of the snap peas she'd helped Josie plant some twelve days back before pulling the covers together again and making her way back to the couch in measured steps.
She looked back a few more times cautiously, irate to find a gap hovering between the curtains just seconds of her closing them reminding her of how badly she needed to save up for some blinds and bumping even a cheap, pre-owned set of those to the very top of her Christmas wish list before settling back down on the beat-up, ugly, olive green couch that she'd purchased second hand from a neighbour who'd been ready to dispose of it now that they'd gotten themselves a shiny, new, leather one; the likes of which she was starting to believe she'd never be able to purchase in this lifetime.
A metallic shriek came from the loose springs under her as she perched on the thinly padded seat, something Josie giggled at childishly because she found the sound amusing having dubbed it as proof that there was a "bwanshee" (banshee) that lived inside their couch. She'd ended up naming it Money after none other than Mandy's Luxe's little gremlin, a choice that her Auntie Clover had wholeheartedly agreed with and high-fived her for.
Paranoid still she made sure to place herself in such a position that if some invisible person was indeed leering near her abode, they wouldn't be able to see Josie and hopefully nothing other than her turned back before resuming the task at hand.
She'd decided to put this free time to good use by working on Josie's birthday gift. Sam's lips automatically pulled into a smile when she saw that Josie was exactly in the place that she'd left her before her short excursion to the window.
She was standing with her tiny socked feet steady on the wooden stool she'd placed her on to make it easier to take her measurements. She could tell that she was having a lot of fun pretending to be a mannequin solely by the goofy, toothy grin on her face as she, with every ounce of her effort, made sure not to move a single muscle.
Her chubby arm was stuck out at a perfect 90° degree angle with the measuring tape roll still loosely draped around it from when she'd been taking the circumference of her and all the fingers of her hand were pointed outwards like a star just like that knockoff Baby Alive doll she had gotten her two years ago that she'd oh so creatively named Babie.
Josie was even trying not to move her eyes and it made her laugh when she froze mid-blink, her eyes squinted half open the second she reached for the measuring tape once more, just to keep pretending she was really made of plastic.
She really was own little doll wasn't she? Sam thought, her smile shifting into a grin as she doubled her efforts to create an extra special garment that was worthy of her little princess.
Her eyes fell on the fabrics she'd chosen for the mission; a cute red tartan one with green squares and white stripe detailing and a stunning cotton, viscose, black velvet that she'd gotten a steal on at her local fabric depot.
Bargain hunting and coupon clipping were skills that she'd picked up and mastered quickly because they were such a necessity for a single mum and at times like this, it sure came in handy.
Picking up the red cloth she held it up against her little girl's chest and didn't miss how vividly it brought out the deep emerald shade of her eyes that she shared with her. She just knew that Josie was going to look amazing in this!
Finishing up the measurements she began to use a piece of white chalk to carefully mark out a rough dress shape. With one hand she flipped through her file folder of dress patterns; a mishmash of clippings from magazines, hand doodled sketches, faded photographs, and printed copies of ideas she'd seen on internet sites that she'd fancied while browsing in her rare spare time.
She hummed to herself as she sifted through and her fingers stopped when they reached the torn out page from the glossy brochure of Eggy, a place she could not afford to shop at but loved the fashions of so much that she'd marked one out with a lime color sticky tab for this special occasion.
With her free hand she replicated the retro yet trendy style shown there the best that she could onto the cloth surface.
It took her two tries to get it just right and when she was finished cutting out both sides for the front and back, she gasped in delight at realizing how much fabric she still had left behind. It looked to be just enough that she could pull off making a matching overcoat to pair with the dress if she wanted to!
A wistful and nostalgic look cast over her face when she remembered the matching coat and dress set she used to have as a toddler. Hers had been a gift from her own mother and had been a neon pink shade with black suede detailing. The coat that went with it had had little black fabric buttons all down the front to hide the invisible zipper that provided a better barrier against cool weather than just buttons could.
She remembered how much she loved it and would wear it all the time just so she could show it off. Her friends birthday parties, family gathering, school events; everywhere.
She could totally model Josie's after it! If she remembered correctly she did have some black velvet buttons left over from a dress commission she'd worked. While she didn't the same amount as her set had had, having used most of the buttons for the gown she still had enough to make it look close enough if she spaced them out enough.
Locating the buttons with ease in her meticulously organized sewing drawer, she brought them back to her makeshift work station and got back down to business just hoping that when this was finished that her Josie would love it as much as she'd once loved hers.
She was so dialed into creating her vision that she barely noticed the gaze still on her intensify, watching her and her daughter longingly from just outside that small window that looked straight into her flat.
Even though it had been several moments since Clover had finished wrapping up Sam's story for him, Scam still couldn't bring himself to comment on it. He just sat there with his mouth parted shell-shocked and utterly speechless at all she'd went through.
So much pain, so much heartbreak, so much ... betrayal.
"No wonder she reacted the way that she did when I told her that I wanted a chance with her. That I had feelings for her," he thought to himself unable to help but rationalize her behaviour and feel pity for her as all the dots connected for him now why she'd been so downright offended when he'd said that.
No, not even that.
It had been disbelief.
Like him stating that he had feelings of love towards her and wanted to build a future with her didn't even seem feasible to her because it was that impossible.
And now he knew ... why. Why it had been difficult, so unthinkable for him to get her to take him seriously and comprehend his words as anything other than nonsensical drivel coming from a horny male who merely wanted to sleeping with her and was using pretty words to convince her to let him.
Although it had been a logical assumption for him to make at that time, it turned out that he'd been wrong to think that their past as being bitter enemies once was the reason why she'd degraded him in the manner that she had and told him no.
This discussion with Clover had shed a bright and sobering light on everything.
Sam's denial, her unwillingness to trust him, have faith in a man again to give her love and loyalty actually had little if anything at all to do with HIM.
Just like Clover had urged, it wasn't him she was necessarily rejecting. No, it was the concept of love itself that she couldn't bear because the last time she'd thought she'd found true love it had turned out to be nothing but a beautiful lie, a booby-trap that had blown up in her face and left her holding onto the smouldering ashes of her hopes and dreams in its wake.
"What kind of man..." he raged to himself with his blood pressure shooting to the sky. "Goes that far just to force a girl to have sex with him?!"
He didn't give a damn if Luke hadn't physically forced Sam into bed because in his eyes, what he'd done to her had been just as low as committing rape.
Luke had gotten to know Sam enough to be know that sex was a sacred thing to her. That she was the old school kind of girl that wanted to wait till marriage and instead of that being the wake-up call that it should have been that she wasn't his type and he should let her go, he'd salivated at the thought of taking her virginity anyway and had actively plotted, schemed, emotionally blackmailed, and manipulated her until he'd gotten her to surrender herself to him even though he had been more than well aware that deep down that wasn't what Sam had truly wanted.
There was no lack of women in the world that weren't as conservative as Samantha, to whom intimacy was no big deal to and colleges were chock full of them. He only had to think back to his own post-secondary years of study when plenty of them had thrown themselves his way. And he hadn't even been trying.
Yet instead of sating his appetite with one of those consenting girls that had to have been an easy option (literally), Lucas had targeted and victimized an innocent Sam.
To describe him as a piece of excrement after that was honestly being just a little too polite.
With all the facts now before him, he couldn't say he blamed Sam for much. That Luke Sharpe had taken a wrecking ball to her fragile heart; how could he or anyone expect it to function normally after that beating?
It wouldn't. It couldn't. Not until it was mended anyway. He understood now that until Sam felt safe to fall in love again all his attempts would be in vain. He could promise her the moon and the stars in the palm of her hand just as he had again and again till he was blue in the face and she'd just plug her ears and turn him down flat.
After all, it wasn't like she could help it. An old Turkish proverb he'd read once immediately came to mind. "If your mouth is burned by milk, you blow before you eat yogurt."
As much as it sucked to be on the receiving end of her vigilance and weariness, Sam was only being human and trying to protect herself as anyone in her situation would.
It wasn't him that Sam didn't want to take a chance on, it was Lucas. It was the thought of finding another guy like him if she ever dare make an attempt at romance again. So all he had to do was prove to her that he wasn't a "Luke" and never would be and then she'd give him a shot, a second chance at winning her heart.
That realization settling in, his state of sheer heartbreak at being so callously denounced by the redhead immediately started to lose impact. At once he sat up straighter in his chair feeling vindicated and rejuvenated as if a weight of a thousand pounds had been lifted off his broad shoulders.
Now having regained his misplaced inner peace, his attention shifted to the one who'd helped him find it only to find the blonde still in absolute shambles of distress.
"I tr-tried to get Sammie back into sc-school!," she squeaked out between gasps of air, rambling about Sam still. "I even offered to help p-pay her tuition fees but she s-said no! She said she was so busy juggling her life she didn't have the t-time anymore! She just accepted that this was how things just had to be and she doesn't think she deserves anything e-else!"
She was still on the floor rolled up into a ball, her arms around her kneecaps and her face nestled into her lap. The sounds of her once deafening sobs and wails had turned into soft sniffles and broken hiccups but she was still clearly struggling to get control over her grief.
And he needed no further proof to indicate to him just how guilty Clover still felt over this judging by the ocean of tears she was crying at the subject so many years later.
But as much as she felt palpable remorse over Sam's fate, it wasn't right. Clover didn't deserve beating herself up like this.
Reaching into the drawer of his executive wood desk, he grabbed a tissue before rising up and going over to her. Neither the sounds of his footsteps approaching her nor his large figure blocking out the light from the chandelier above when he stood over her was enough to get her to look up at him so very lightly he tapped her shoulder.
"Clover?" He whispered down to her soothingly. "Are you okay?"
Taking a deep breath in she finally raised her head. When she allowed him to see her face again, the disarrayed sight of her bloodshot eyes and tear-stained face complete with dark mascara lines led him to hastily put the napkin in her hand so that she could tidy herself up.
Feeling the soft cotton touch her palm, Clover could only stare back at Scam at a loss for words at the blatant empathy that was showing in spades on what she'd remembered had once been a permanently stone-cold and rigid face.
Sensing her eyes glued onto him, for a long moment Scam stood motionless not really knowing what to do or say. He remained closemouthed even while she blew her nose a few times and took deep breaths in and out to try and stop hyperventilating, at last seeming to realize how severely she'd fallen apart after confessing to him.
Tim finally resumed action when Clover started saying sorry over and over as if she'd made a fool out of herself before him. He shook his to convey to her that it honestly wasn't necessary before offering her his hand to help her up to her feet.
She seemed almost surprised by that gesture and gave him an even wider-eyed stare, it appearing that she'd been expecting him to react to her breakdown much differently than be such a gentleman about it.
And although she wasn't saying anything, he could read her face. He could tell that she'd anticipated him to laugh at her for being weak, something the past him would most likely have done until he was breathless.
Thankfully the present day him had a lot more compassion for others and their battles because this Tim Scam had stopped playing hide and seek with his own issues and confronted them head-on. He'd accepted that he couldn't change the past no matter how much it made him cringe at times and instead of clinging onto it, had let go and had forgiven himself for it.
And that was just what Clover desperately needed to do now. She'd never be able to move on otherwise. She'd never find peace.
Having figured out what to say to some degree Scam opened his mouth and at long last broke the awkward silence in a hushed, gentle, and impossibly sympathetic tone, in such a manner that to someone who didn't know their history would never think he'd ever hated this girl once and had wanted to see her dead.
"It's not your fault," Scam stated in a matter-of-fact way with his sea green eyes peering right into her blue ones, wanting her to listen to what he was saying here and stop punishing herself over something she'd played such a minor role in.
Her lips quivered and she tried to look away but he didn't let her as he softly seized her by her slender shoulders and made her pay attention to him. A lone tear escaped the edge of her blue eye and before it could be joined by another he used the pad of his thumb to brush it away.
"What happened to Sam ... it wasn't your doing," He attempted to drill into her as he comforted her saying things like if anyone should be berating themselves for how things wound up for her, the brunt of that responsibility fell on the asshole who'd deserted her in the first place and to a lesser but still significant amount Sam's father who had in his opinion, failed horribly in being a guardian for his child.
If he'd been in Sam's dad's shoes and ever have a daughter who'd show up to his home her fragile condition, the first thing he'd do would be hunt down the guy who'd done that to her and beat him to a gooey pulp. Once that was out of the way he'd soothe her, tell her that he was here for her, and do whatever it was that had to be done to help her pick up the pieces of her life and move forward.
He wouldn't have just blamed her for everything, washed his hands of her, and pretend she didn't exist like Mr. Simpson had. God knew if he ever ran into him, he would have some choice words to say to the inadequate and cowardly father.
Meanwhile Clover had been going above and beyond being there for Sam. She'd been there from her pregnancy, to the birth of her baby girl, to this very day, unwavering in her support no matter how hard things got. She'd done more than even a real blood sister would so she, of all people in Sam's circle past or present had no reason, not one, to feel any guilt.
As she listened to his pep talk and nodded along from time to time, Clover felt the edges of dry her lips quirk into a small smile at this unexpected bonding moment that was unfolding between her and him.
Who'd had ever thought that she'd ever be in a time and place where this man of all the millions in the world would be trying to cheer her up like an older brother did his upset little sister? That he, her once sworn foe could ever be this nice?
Life was such a funny thing sometimes, those things that seemed impossible somehow became possible.
Tim Scam really and truly just wasn't that guy anymore that she used to know and loathe. That careless, aloof, troublemaking, menacing side of him seemed to be all gone, erased from existence and what was left behind in his place was a perfect man.
A perfect man that was perfect ... for Samantha Simpson.
Yes try as she might she couldn't help her mind from going there again, from imagining him and her Sammie being a couple despite all the obstacles that were still very much standing unbendingly in their path like menacing mountains.
How much would Sam benefit having this mature, wise, patient, kind, thoughtful, and frankly wonderful guy being the foundation of her otherwise turbulent existence?
The answer was obvious to her: SO MUCH. Sam could gain so damn much out of adding him to her life, making him her husband and as a consequence of that union the father of her little girl.
Having had arranged hundreds of dates for Sam throughout her life before and after she'd become a mom (because despite her reservations towards men, Sam had thought it the right thing to do regardless on the chance that it may find her a decent enough man who could be some kind of dad figure in Josie's fatherless life) no one knew more than herself the demanding list describing her ideal dream guy.
She had memorized her requirements and Scam, believe it or not, checked off all the boxes. Each and every one of them almost as if Sam had been subconsciously thinking of the guy himself when she'd come up with them.
She couldn't explain exactly how but she just knew deep in her gut and inside her soul that if they somehow got together then Sam's exhausting search for her life partner would finally come to an end.
She'd bet money on it; Scam could go the distance of her lifetime. He would never disappoint her, get bored of her, use or abuse her as Lucas had. Never would he even think of abandoning her for another.
"If only I could just get Sammie to give him a chance!" Clover sighed before frowning as she asked herself forlornly if that was even the only problem with this wish of hers anymore.
Suddenly she felt afraid and sucked in her breath wondering if she'd badly screwed up here. Had she by telling him all of this, made him change his mind? Did he even want Sam anymore? If he didn't then with neither Sam or him on board this would never happen. Never.
She was just about to ask him if she'd made a mistake by laying bare before him the missing years of Sam's life when he mumbled something whilst walking back to his desk thinking her to be okay now which made her feel the hope she desperately needed to feel right now.
"What he did to Sam ... it's an unforgivable betrayal."
A betrayal he'd called it, which could only mean that he didn't hold Sam responsible for trusting Lucas and didn't see her sleeping with him as any kind of blemish on her character. He could see that Sam was the wronged party, that her only blame was that she'd fallen deeply in love to the point of blindness and that was her only crime.
A deep breath of relief exhaled itself from within the cavern of her lungs before she took a step closer towards him a little nervously.
"So ... does that mean you still want her?" Clover popped the question before he could even sit back down in his chair, failing in stopping the words from escaping her lips because she couldn't take not knowing the answer for much longer.
She wanted to believe that it wasn't over for him and Sam and needed a reason to do that right this second.
"Will you give her another shot at being your wife? Your Mrs.?" She phrased her query carefully recalling how the last time she'd suggested Sam become Mrs. Scam, the endearing hot redness that had formed across his jaw line had swiftly given away to her how much he secretly relished that idea despite his lips saying otherwise.
Although he could detect the palpable intensity of her eagerness of hearing a "yes" from him practically burning holes into his face, he didn't answer right away choosing instead to elegantly plop himself down on the leather seat, cross one leg over the other, and put on his poker face now that he was back to being the businessman he was.
And then he posed her a question, one that caught the waiting blonde totally off guard.
"Tell me more about Sam."
"Huh?!" She blinked in confusion at the changed subject, her face screwing up at what seemed to be a random tangent that he'd taken out of nowhere.
Okay ... was he seriously not going to even answer her?! Incredulously Clover shot him a raise of her waxed eyebrow, finding that to be super rude but he didn't seem to care about being any politer and just waved a hand at her telling her to please proceed.
His too calm mood was a complete contrast to her own and she felt as though she was standing barefoot on literal pins and needles while he seemed to be amused in toying with her, taking his sweet time to give her the response she was dying for by ricocheting it with his own question.
When another sixty seconds or so agonizingly ticked by just like that she opened her mouth to shout at him to cut it out already and get to the point. But then she calmed herself down realizing that Sam was still the subject of discussion here.
If he'd lost all interest in her after what she'd told him then he wouldn't be bringing up anything to do with the girl now would he? No, he wouldn't. Which meant there was no need for her to panic.
Yet.
"What um ... What do you want to know?" She shrugged, deciding to humour him because she wanted to see exactly what would come from doing so.
She watched him press his lips together in a thin line with his expression becoming pensive.
"Before all this happened, what were her goals?" Scam pondered aloud knowing the type of girl Sam was, sound and ambitious, she had to have had a plan, some kind of a vision to work towards once upon a time that she'd given up on.
There was no way in hell that this had ever been her Plan A.
"What were her hopes? Her dreams?" He prompted further. "What did she want from life Clover?"
"A successful career," Clover said straight away knowing that just like the rest of her illustrious family, Sam had always had dreams of being rich and famous and most of all well respected in society for her merits.
And she'd wanted to earn that prestige as a famous wedding dress designer which very closely tied in to the one other thing she'd always wanted for herself ever since she'd been a little girl of Josie's age.
She only had to think of the giant scrapbook she'd seen many times throughout the course of their friendship which was bursting at the seams with glossy pictures of white dresses cut from magazines, fancy cake decor slash flavour options, and wedding venue locations ranging from The Plaza in New York City to the St. Colman's Cathedral, in Cobh Ireland. The very same book that present day Sam haughtily expressed she'd tossed into the trash bin years ago like the junk it was but actually had stuffed in her underwear drawer where no one but herself had any access to it.
"And ... a happy marriage."
As she said those words she stared hard again at Scam's face trying to nudge him with her gaze that he could very well make at least that desire of Sam's come true even today. He had the coin to give the girl, any girl the wedding of her craziest fantasies and the dedication to make the bond made that fateful day to last till death.
He caught the look she gave him like a batted ball aimed straight into a fielder's glove but ignored it choosing to focus instead on the first goal of Sam's that she'd relayed to him.
Sam had wanted a career. A rewarding and fulfilling career.
The wheels in his head starting to turn, he pushed her to tell him more on that and was stunned when he learned that Sam's career of choice had been not to be surgeon or physicist as he'd always imagined her to want to be because of her ridiculous smarts (actually she was the only living human he'd ever met that possessed an I.Q on par with his own which was something he'd both detested and admired her for when she'd been the one mostly responsible for foiling his evil schemes) but to be in fashion.
Although he had, even while knowing her in passing noticed that back in the day she as well as her friends were quite the fashionistas, he'd never thought her love for fashion ran quite as deep as her love for science.
At most he could have convinced himself that she'd wanted to be a model because god was she ever pretty enough and had the figure to be one. But apparently she didn't just want to wear nice clothing ... she wanted to be the one creating it.
More than anything in this world, Sam Simpson surprisingly longed to be a fashion designer.
Now that wasn't to say that the fashion industry wasn't the right fit for her because it did not require intelligence. That statement would be a total lie. If you didn't have the right mindset then you'd be eaten alive in that trade. There were hundreds of designers out there but only a handful ever made it big.
Because to gain real success and critical acclaim, it took much more than just knowing how to draw some pretty pictures.
It required a sharp business acumen. For example attentiveness towards the market to see what trends were in and which were out, which would sell and which would tank if dare replicated. However it also took innovation in equal measures. The guts to be avant-garde, think outside the box and not just do what everyone else was doing.
And then along with all that there was that one, little other thing any designer also needed if they wanted to truly reach the top of the lot. See the job Samantha desired was one where "making it" was just as reliant on how much someone put themselves out there, their networking prowess as it was on one's skill.
For a man like him this ... could be prove useful.
A tiny smirk started to twist at the very corner of his lip, his eyes glossing over in delight as he thought about the endless connections in the world of business, media, and marketing that he'd forged over these five years.
People in top positions with power and influence that he had dancing like puppets on his string to his very own tune.
—Very useful indeed.
Keeping the machinations of his mind to himself until he was sure he could do this, he spoke again this time inquiring if Sam had done any dress designing as of late or if she was rusty and if she was any good at it or just an amateur.
"Oh she totally is!" Clover guaranteed to him emphatically because she truly was. She wasn't even saying it just because she was her bestie, the things that she'd seen Sam do with a sketchpad and a pencil, scraps of fabric and some thread and needle were mind-blowing.
She would know, wouldn't she? She'd once shopped at the highest of high-end retailers and worn custom made designer dresses of her own and nothing, honest to god nothing even compared.
Despite how messy her life had gotten Sam had never once stopped creating dresses. Never once. It was truly her life's passion and she'd never lost it despite losing nearly everything else.
"She just has this way of capturing emotions in a garment," she tried her best to describe what she felt was Sam's endless talent to him. She then remembered something one of the women she'd created a bridal gown for had said and paraphrased her.
"It's hard to put into words but it's like her dresses ... they like tell a story. And when you're wearing one it's li—"
Suddenly she stopped short, her eyes narrowing for a second before landing smack dab on his face again having had noticed something while she'd been talking.
For some reason it just looked like he was up to something.
She could practically see through him like an X-ray and watch the gears inside his head spinning out of control. He was trying to hide it from her with an all too innocent looking blank stare in her direction but she could see past his facade.
Scam didn't waste his breath just to toss random questions into the air. No there had to be a reason he was asking all of this, gathering all this specific intel focused on Sammie's dream career.
But what was it?
"Can you show me some samples of her work?"
His newest command left her further puzzled and she stood rooted to her spot just watching him and trying to read his mind. She gave up soon enough knowing it was futile; if Tim Scam didn't want someone to know something then there was no way they'd find out without his permission. Instead she wondered if she did have any examples of Sam's designs on her that she could show to him.
Under normal circumstances she never left her home without at least a few of Sam's concept sketches just so she could hand them out at her modelling gigs in a ditch effort that it'd land her some commissions. This valiant effort of hers hadn't paid off in the past but now that Scam was asking to see, she found herself praying that even though she'd ran off in a huff that she did have something to present him.
Reaching into her purse she swiftly rummaged through its few contents. It didn't take long and she swore at herself in frustration when she didn't even have one of Sam's rejected drawings to share at the moment. How inconvenient.
"I can go get some," she declared with a sigh as she turned on her heel to leave the office and go straight to Sam.
With every step she took away, she tried to figure out what lie would work best to get the redhead to allow her to borrow her prized portfolio with snapshots of all the gowns she'd ever fashioned for anyone.
Maybe she could say that a photographer she'd worked with had requested a special something for a shoot and she felt she was the right person to prepare something for the job? Or maybe that one of the pictures she'd handed out of her work had made its way to another bigger model who was about to tie the knot and was potentially interested in getting a custom wedding dress from her?
Knowing the exposure that kind of gig could get would definitely earn Sam's cooperation, Clover decided to go with that. Satisfied, she started to internally rehearse the phrasing of the lie so that she could get it just right to sell it to her friend when she paused.
With her hand gripping the doorknob she turned her head over her shoulder to look back at Scam with half curious and half suspicious eyes as one thought kept nagging at her again and again because she was still in the dark.
Why was he having her run this errand for him? And most importantly ... just what was going to come of it?
She didn't want to waste her time or get Sam's hopes up for no reason. She really would prefer to know exactly what she was getting into here before she got into it.
But the tease that Scam was and had always enjoyed being, he just paid her no mind and opened up a file folder sitting on his desk and began leafing through it, silently gesturing to her that as badly as he knew she wanted him to, he wasn't going to clue her in any further until she'd been a good girl and given him what he'd asked for.
Getting that message she emitted a loud groan that he barely resisting chuckling out loud at and opened the door finally letting herself out to go and fetch that work sample.
"Ugh! He sure can be infuriating!" She grumbled to herself with a big pout on her lips as she stomped along the corridor before getting into the large, glass elevator and hitting the button for the ground floor.
But she had to believe in him and have faith that in the end this was going to result in something amazing for Sam. A thing that incredible that it was going to make this more than worth it.
Now what that thing would be, well she'd just have to wait and see.
Pushing the needle up from the underside of the fabric through one of the holes of the black button, Sam expertly used her fingertip to apply pressure and keep it in place as she pulled the thread all the way to the knot at the end.
Her fingers moving as though they were dancing a waltz, she smiled to herself as she turned the needle around and swerved it back down through the adjacent hole it had come up through before. She tugged it all way through once more and this time when she finished, she was left with a neat and straight line of thread which linked the two holes together.
As she repeated the process for the other holes, from the corner of her eye she saw her little Josie staring at her fixedly from the couch seat beside her. And she found herself wondering if she was learning anything by watching her sew even if she was at such a tender age.
She sure seemed fascinated, almost hypnotized with how wide her eyes were and how her mouth was parted in the purest expression of sheer wonder.
Even though she had her favourite fresh-squeezed orange juice (1) in her sippy cup and her most favourite show playing on the television set (PBS' Dinosaur Train) all she seemed to be paying attention to was the movement of her mommy's hands as she worked on the detailing of her overcoat.
Sam's smile grew wider as she enjoyed this precious moment of her child taking a real interest in her trade, one that she would one day teach her when she was old enough so that if she ever wanted to she could use it for herself.
While she wished that by that time she would be financially sound enough to not have to wear or make her daughter wear so much homemade clothing, she knew it was a great skill to have regardless and that she would enjoy teaching Josie it.
The thought of opening her kiddo up to the world of sewing, of seeing what she'd create with her own two hands filled her with excitement. Of course she'd have to make sure to teach Josie proper safety when using a needle first such as why it was a good idea to use a thimble and not be distracted when you worked on a project to prevent any accidents. But she was confident that soon enough Josie would be well on her way to experimenting with fabric.
Yet as she sat there imagining any future works of art she'd get to see by her daughter, her mood was dampened when she again felt the concentration of two pupils ogling at her from somewhere close outside her abode.
Without moving her body she darted her eyes to the window and thought that she could just make out a very dim outline of a body from just behind the veil of the drapes. But she didn't get up to go chase them away because this could still all be her imagination.
The last time she had gone to look there hadn't actually been anyone there, plus she only had this time allotted to finish her daughter's birthday outfit. Tomorrow was Monday, the start of another long week where just as always, she'd be battling to just get through it without losing her sanity or passing out cold from physical exhaustion.
So she decided to keep her butt planted firmly on the couch until she finished her task which would at most take another half hour to forty minutes and opted to, just in case, send some ill will and colorful curses at the possible idiot whose presence she thought she was picking up on and had been all this time.
The one that had nothing better to do than spend precious time they'd never get back being a voyeur instead of doing something productive with their pathetic existence.
"It's probably dusty old Mr. Perez creeping again instead of just some rando," Sam thought having to bite her tongue to try and hold back the bile that rose up her esophagus like a tidal wave at the mental picture of the 71 year-old now going on 72, balding, liver-spotted, half-toothless not-so-gentle gentleman that was her neighbour watching her with his washed out eyes as though she was candy that he wanted to devour.
And while she lamented to herself at the very much unwanted type of guy that was a fixture in her life as opposed to the intelligent, established, drop-dead gorgeous hunk of a man she'd once naively been adamant she'd be happily married to by age 25, she was unaware that the person who was just outside her home on the other side of that curtain was not sleazy Richard Perez or some other unknown creepster who'd been watching her all afternoon into evening but in fact her own...
Mother.
(1) Reference to Season 3, Episode 24: "Evil Promotion Much? Part 1". It's revealed that Sam likes orange juice a lot. In the episode it's shown that she has a daily routine of drinking it and complains when Alex (who is on the carrot diet) replaces it with carrot juice.
Anywho!
I am SO glad to have posted something after like 2ish months. x_x
Although Scam didn't answer Clover, do you think he's still wanting to win Sam's affections? And any thoughts on why Scam wants to see Sam's work so badly?
And what about Gabby dropping by Sam's flat? Will there finally be a much overdue heart-to-heart between long separated mom and daughter?
Last but not least. I'm like five minutes late but …
A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU GUYS! ^-^
Love,
Cresenta!