April 10th:
I don't really recall falling asleep that night...
...and I forget what woke me up around seven the next morning...
...but I do remember opening my eyes to find Sam sleeping blissfully in my arms...
...lying directly on top of me...
...and squishing me! As I shifted around under her, trying to get a bit more comfortable, I suddenly froze...
...as I realized...to my absolute horror...that I could feel a huge bulge inside my panties.
Heart pounding, I plunged my right hand under the covers, spreading my legs apart as far as I could, while my hand grabbed what was between them...
...and I soon heaved a sigh of relief, as I discovered (and remembered) that what I felt wasn't a penis.
It didn't take long for my heart rate to return to normal; and once it had, I tangled all ten of my fingers deeply into Sam's hair and then lay there in total contentment, enjoying the hushed stillness of early morning; and the low, even sound of her breathing...
..and the peaceful, untroubled expression on her babyish face as it rested against my right shoulder.
Eventually curious as to what kind of day it was going to be, I turned my head to the left on my pillow, looking over toward the bank of windows that stretched along the Eastern wall of my room, above my long, upholstered window seat...
...and lay for nearly a minute, gazing out at the vast expanse of unrelenting, iron-gray Seattle sky...
...before shifting my gaze back up to the ceiling and sighing quietly. Rain, rain, rain...
...so like April...
...and, judging by how dark the room still was even though it was now past 7 am, there would almost certainly be a major thunderstorm today, I thought...
...when suddenly, a massive, unexpected jolt of lightening exploded...
...within my brain, and then ripped violently through my body...
...and I nearly sat straight up in bed from the shock, as I realized that I'd completely forgotten something. Something of utmost importance: It was now The Tenth of April...
...which meant that Sam's birthday was exactly...and only...one week away!
How could I have forgotten?
I wasn't really mad at myself for not thinking of it sooner...after all, we'd both just been through hell...
...twice...
...but the problem still remained of how to celebrate it...
...and especially, what to buy her for a gift.
It didn't me take long to come up with an answer. At the beginning of the week, while we were waiting downtown for the bus to take us to Ocean Shores, Sam had suddenly (and with a loud gasp) stopped slouching against the Bus Stop's metal post, and then sprinted across the street...
...and spent the next five minutes staring into one of the front windows of the Bandana Republic store...
...at the teal and white striped rugby shirt that was on display in it.
So then, that's what I'm getting her as a gift, I concluded. It was a great idea...
...but, unfortunately, a predictable one. I buy Sam clothes nearly every holiday, because her mom doesn't (she doesn't feed her either, but that's another story for another day)...
...and realizing this, the more I thought it over, the less appealing the idea of giving Sam clothes as a present again began to seem. I mean, it's going to be her first birthday as my girlfriend, I mused, and therefore, I want to do something really, really special...
...which means going way above and beyond what she'd be expecting...
..and giving her a gift that would make her deliriously happy...
...but...what?
What (besides food) would Sam absolutely love?
I spent the next twenty minutes or so trying to think of a more creative and original idea, but absolutely nothing suggested itself; and so finally, I gave up...
...intentionally let go of the problem for the time being...
...gradually, deliberately, letting my mind drift away from it...
...back toward nothingness...
...hoping that additional sleep would eventually facilitate inspiration...
...but no sooner had I closed my eyes, then they snapped open again.
A TRIP TO THE CIRCUS!
Of course! Why didn't I think of it earlier? Sam told me how badly she's always wanted to go...and how her mom never took her...
...and I realized that it would be the perfect gift, one that would make Sam far happier than any clothes...
...even a teal and white striped rugby shirt from Bandana Republic!
But one problem remained. I hadn't heard anything about any circus coming to Seattle. The last one (not counting Oswell's Oddities) was at least four years ago...
...so, what to do?
The answer was obvious: Research. First things first though: A much-needed trip to the bathroom.
As I carefully squirmed out from under Sam's sprawling body, she frowned in her sleep, and her left hand fumbled around for a moment before gripping my shirtfront limply...
...making me realize that, even unconscious, she wanted me close to her...
...which I found to be incredibly endearing and reassuring...
...and which made me that much more determined to make this birthday her best one she's ever had.
Reaching down toward my stomach, I easily removed her fingers from the front of my shirt; and, getting out of bed, I leaned over and kissed her forehead lingeringly; and then put my bathrobe on and headed down the hall.
Less than ten minutes later, I was sitting on a bar stool at my kitchen counter, with a half-finished glass of orange juice to my right, and my computer in front of me...typing away at an insane pace. Less than five minutes later, I was staring at the screen, with my mouth hanging open...
...because I couldn't believe my luck.
There was a circus this weekend...
...over in Bristol...
...and not just any circus...
...but the Jingling Bros. And Farnum & Haley circus...
...and tickets were still available for the 8 pm show on Sunday!
Sam's gonna be so thrilled, I thought...
...but before I could hop off the bar stool and run upstairs for my debit card, my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a door opening on the far side of the living room; and I swiveled around to see Spencer, in his favorite blue plaid pajamas; staggering barefoot, silent, and bleary-eyed out of his bathroom and into the kitchen.
After rummaging in the fridge for almost a minute, he emerged, opening a bottle of iced tea; and after taking a long swig from it, he shook his head to clear it and then boomed, "Ahhh...much better! Good morning, Carly! Whatcha doin' up so early?"
"Good morning, Spencer. I'm just shopping for Sam's birthday gift. It's only seven days away."
At the sound of her name, he smiled broadly.
"Oh, decisions, decisions...Copper Nunchucks versus Chrome-Plated Brass Knuckles...such a difficult choice; but don't worry, Kiddo, I'm sure she'll be happy with either!" he quipped.
"Actually, that's not quite what I had in mind," I replied. "Not this year, anyway. Come here for a sec."
Obligingly, he walked around to my side of the counter, and then leaned down and looked over my shoulder at the computer screen.
"Wow...a trip to the circus?" he exclaimed.
"Yes...over in Bristol," I replied excitedly. "Sam told me she's always wanted to go...and tickets are still available for tomorrow night's 8 o'clock show."
"That's nice," he remarked, then paused for a moment before adding, "But I'm really sorry that you won't be able to take her."
Not believing what I'd just heard, I swiveled around to face him.
"What? Why not?" I demanded.
"Because it's all the way over in Bristol," he replied.
"Oh, that's okay...I promise we won't sit next to any weirdos on the bus," I assured him earnestly...
...but he shook his head.
"That's not the problem. It's ninety miles from here...and the show doesn't even start until 8...which means that you won't be home until way after midnight."
"Well, couldn't you just rent a car and drive us?" I asked, still completely convinced that I could make him see reason. "After all, you love circuses...and I'll even pay for your ticket."
"I wish I could...but I can't," he replied.
"But...this is for Sam's birthday!" I repeated.
"Yes, I realize that, but still, I can't take you. There's something else I have to do."
"What? What could possibly be more important than this?" I asked, compltetly incredulous.
"I've already made plans to go to dinner with Socko tomorrow evening," he answered firmly.
"But...you have dinner over there at least three nights a week, so can't you just reschedule it?" I asked, beginning to feel slightly nervous at his failure to see my side of things. "I'm sure he'll understand."
Spencer shook his head again.
"If it was just the two of us, I would...but it's a lot more complicated than that," he replied. "Tomorrow night, he's going to be meeting with some entrepreneur from Atlantic City...who owns a number of high-end, retail apparel boutiques up and down the East Coast, and who's expressed interest in placing a huge order for custom-designed socks from him. Socko's been working on this deal for the past two months."
"So? Why do they need you there?" I asked...
...my panic now beginning to mount.
"Well, I'm supposed to be the entertainment for this guy's wife for the entire evening, to keep her amused with my wit and charm, while he and Socko are talking business."
"Can't he just get someone else to go with him?" I asked, trying hard to keep my voice and my head steady...
...and to keep my rapidly-growing anxiety in check. "Please, Spencer, this is really, really important!"
"I'm sorry, Carly, but this is really important to Socko, too," he replied, "and, since I already promised him first, I have to keep my word."
Before he had finished that sentence, I began wracking my brain, knowing it was now imperative that I consider my remaining options...
...soon realizing...horrified...that there weren't any...
...and now, mere seconds away from tears, I reached over and grabbed his arm.
"Spencer, Please! Please let us go! This would mean so much to Sam!"
"I know it would," he agreed, looking and sounding genuinely regretful. "But Socko asked me for this favor three weeks ago, and now the dinner is only a day away. If there was any way to ask him to get someone else to fill in for me, I would."
"Then please let us go there on the bus...I promise we'll be really, really careful! Please, Spencer...just this once?" I begged...
...but, not pausing to reconsider, he shook his head slowly.
"I'm sorry, Kiddo, but the answer is still 'no'.
"Y-you let us go to Ocean Shores b-by ourselves on the bus...and w-we came back on it...and that was late at night!" I reminded him, tightening my grip on his arm and looking up at him pleadingly.
"Yes, that's true" he admitted, "but you were back by 10:30...and that was the 509 bus, the one that goes to Ocean Shores. To get to Bristol and back, you'll have to take the 553 bus...and that one picks up in some very rough neighborhoods. There have been four robberies on the 553 in the past six months...and three of them were armed robberies."
"Sam will be there to protect me," I reminded him.
"Can she deflect bullets?" he countered.
"Well, no...but-"
"Look, Carly," he interrupted, laying a hand over mine, "if you were going to a morning or afternoon show, I'd say 'yes' to this, but all four of those robberies on the 553 occurred after 11 at night. Don't worry though," he added, noticing my devastated expression, "I'm sure there will be other circuses that you can take Sam to."
"No, there won't!" I insisted stubbornly, with an obvious catch in my voice, as I began blinking rapidly.
"I'm sure there will be," he replied gently...
...as I swiveled away from him, back toward my computer...
...and then sat very still...
...trying very hard not to cry.
I was crushed. Even though he knew how important this was to me, he obviously wasn't going to change his mind; and, after what had happened at the MMA Exhibition, I knew that I didn't dare sneak out and go behind his back. Looking downward, I grabbed onto my knees with both hands to steady myself, and stared down at the computer keyboard...
...silent and heartbroken.
It was no good. I was going to have to give it up and buy Sam the rugby shirt instead...
...but even though she'd be absolutely thrilled...
...I definitely wouldn't.
The sound of Spencer's voice snapped me back to the present...
...as I felt him wrapping his arms around me from behind, and pulling me back against his chest.
"Look, Carly. You do understand that I'm really sorry to have to say 'no' to you...don't you?" he asked.
Without looking up, I nodded slowly...
...and he bent down and kissed my cheek.
"Good girl. Now, listen to me very carefully. After this weekend, you and I are going to start checking online for circuses...and we're going to keep checking online for circuses...and the very next time one comes to the area, I promise I'll drive you and Sam there...okay?"
I didn't respond.
He didn't notice.
"Socko's picking me up in an hour," he continued. "I promised to help him design his new business card logo, and then I have to do some shopping, so I'm going to be busy for most of the day; but I should be home around four this afternoon," he stated, giving me a final squeeze, before heading back into the kitchen, and over to the cabinet where we keep our cereal...
...while I slid off my bar stool and headed back upstairs...
...dragging my feet the entire way.
The instant I lay back down next to Sam, she rolled over on top of me again; and, as her arms went around my neck, she sighed in unconscious contentment...
...which made me feel even worse than I already did. I wanted so badly to take her to the circus tomorrow...
...and there had to be a way...
...but how? Spencer had forbidden us to go. While wrestling with this seemingly insurmountable problem and wishing with all my heart that I could find a solution...for Sam's sake, I closed my eyes again...
...reopening them shortly thereafter (still without an answer), when I felt her stretching in all directions on top of me.
I glanced over at the clock...
...9:32...
...before looking down into her eyes.
"Good Morning, Beautiful," she murmured, with an adorable sleepy smile, tilting her face upward and kissing my chin.
"Good Morning, Handsome," I replied, reaching down...
...and tickling her.
Shrieking, she rolled off me.
"Foul! I wasn't even awake yet!" she protested...
...trying - and failing - to look furious.
Giving her a sincere, apologetic look, I held my arms out again; and, after a long moment's hesitation, she crawled back on top of me. Wrapping her own arms around my neck, she lay her head next to mine on the pillow; and, after we'd held each other without speaking for about five minutes, she asked, Whatcha thinkin' about?"
I shook my head.
"Come on, Cupcake," she urged with a smile, "I can always tell when you have something on your mind."
Unwilling to disappoint her by explaining that my fantastic gift idea for her was ruined, I shifted my gaze up to the ceiling, trying to figure out what I should actually tell her instead.
She waited patiently until, finally hitting on an alternative, I looked down at her and said, "I was just thinking about...the mountain of laundry we need to do today."
Her face fell.
"Aw, man! I have no interest in that...so count me out!"
"Guess again, Mister Current Events...consider yourself Counted In!" I retorted. "But don't worry," I continued, while ignoring her reproachful gaze, "effort equals reward and so...After You've Helped Me," I emphasized, while giving her a Very Pointed Look, "I promise that I'll take you..." I paused for dramatic effect, before continuing, "...to JFC for fried chicken!"
Immediately, her eyes lit up.
"Really, Carls?" she exclaimed...
...and I nodded enthusiastically.
"Yes! I promise!" I assured her, and then reached down and gave her a little smack on the butt. "Now go take a shower and get dressed, while I get breakfast ready."
I had no intention of telling Sam that my reasons for taking her to JFC were actually threefold: 1) To make her happy, by treating her to one of her favorite meals 2) To make sure the rugby shirt she wanted was still in Banana Republic's front window (that store does an incredible amount of business) 3) To get out of the apartment and stretch my legs, because taking a long walk always helps me to think...
...and maybe all of that thinking would eventually lead me to a solution that would enable us to go to the circus.
After we'd eaten breakfast, I parked Sam in front of the TV temporarily while I showered and dressed; and then, after loading five baskets of dirty clothes (hers, mine, and Spencer's) onto his hand truck, and then grabbing the back of Sam's shirt in a vice-like grip, I steered both her and the hand truck out the front door of my apartment and down to the First Floor laundry room.
I won't bore you with a long, detailed account of washing our clothes, (except to mention that Sam's contribution to the project consisted only of throwing softener sheets into the dryers); but three hours later, just as I'd finished putting the last of her neatly folded boxer shorts back into the 'Sam' drawer of my dresser, she began jumping up and down, while chanting rapidly and maniacally...and loudly, "JFC!-JFC!-JFC!-JFC!-JF-"
"Okay, okay!" I shouted, grabbing hold of her arm, forcing her feet back onto the floor. "Calm down! I'm sure the restaurant is still there!"
With a look of mock offense at my 'insensitivity to her needs', she stopped yelling, shook my hand off, and then walked across the room and grabbed her gray hooded sweatshirt from the back of my desk chair. After pulling it on, she returned to where I stood, and stuck her lower lip way, way out...
...still pretending to be mortally offended and injured...
...even as I pulled her to me and looked deeply into her eyes.
"Who loves you?" I asked softly...
...and immediately, she tilted her head up and to the right...
...and stared at the ceiling...
...with a look of profound confusion on her face...
...for about five seconds...
...until, in two swift strides...
...I stepped behind her and, cocking my hand far, far back...
...I smacked her on the butt.
Hard.
"OW!" she yelled, grabbing her backside with both hands...
...while I, with a smug smile, headed wordlessly over to the bedroom door...
...but before I could walk through it, those same two hands grabbed my shoulders and playfully spun me around...
...and I felt an indescribable thrill shoot through me as I found myself staring into the world's most beautiful Cerulean-blue eyes...
...for a split second...
...before she closed them and, tilting her head forward, her lips made contact with mine.
Ten minutes later, still joined at the lips...
...I somehow found us standing at my front door.
Our (thankfully rain-free) walk downtown was relatively uneventful, except that, as we passed Bandana Republic's front windows, Sam was drawn like a magnet to the right-hand one (again), where she leaned, with her nose pressed against the glass, while I stood behind her...
...smiling quietly. Even though I still was extremely disappointed about my circus idea not panning out (due to lack of a solution, I was now pretty sure we wouldn't be able to go), I knew she still was going to be very happy with the shirt, so maybe it wasn't such a bad gift idea after all.
Shortly thereafter, I found myself standing behind her, in the middle line at JFC's front counter...
...rolling my eyes, as she argued with the cashier.
"Whaddya mean twenty minutes? I'm starving Now!"
The cashier sighed wearily.
"I'm very sorry to hear that, Miss; but we just sold our last chicken pot pie."
"So? Throw some more in the oven!" Sam demanded, rather loudly...and obnoxiously.
"We just did," the lady confirmed, "...but it takes at least twenty minutes for the crust to brown properl-"
Sam looked livid.
"What? This is supposed to be a Fast food restaurant! So why don't you take your jank, lame-ass crust and shov-mmmph!"
"Sorry ma'am...my when my friend here is hungry, she gets a little cranky," I apologized...
...with my right hand clamped firmly over Sam's jaw.
"Mmph gnr-nuh knll dft mreefjl!" she announced, trying to squirm her way out from under it.
In one swift motion, I pulled her body back against mine and lowered my mouth to her ear.
"Listen to me," I said, gesturing with my free hand toward the two salads and four chicken sandwiches (one for me, three for her) that were sitting on the counter in front of us. "We'll start with the first and second courses, and by the time we've finished, I'm sure your pot pie will be read-"
I didn't get to finish...
...because, without further thrashing or muffled verbal protestations, she jerked her body free of my hand, snatched our tray from the counter, turned on her heel, and without a backward glance, disappeared around the corner to the back of the restaurant where the seats were located...
...while I slipped the lady behind the counter an additional two fives.
"Sorry."
"It's okay," she replied with a gracious and understanding smile.
Back at the table, Sam tore through her food in record time, soon rising from her seat.
"POT PIE TIME!"
"It's only been seven minutes," I reminded her.
"I know. I plan to use the remaining thirteen to fix that idiotic cashier with a death glare," she informed me.
Automatically and instinctively, I shot her The Look.
"Okay, okay...not death...just hostility," she conceded huffily over her shoulder, as she walked briskly up toward the restaurant's front counter.
With an exasperated sigh, I turned my attention from her rapidly-retreating back...
...to the cluttered tabletop, collecting our empty containers and wrappers, and piling them back onto the tray, when suddenly I heard a familiar voice.
"Carly? Is that you?" someone asked...
...and I looked up to see Wendy Carlson, a classmate of ours from Ridgeway, walking up the aisle toward my table; with a wide smile on her face, and a large JFC shopping bag in her right hand.
Always glad to see her, I answered, "Hi, Wendy! How's everything?"
"Everything's fine," she replied, stopping directly in front of where I sat and looking down at me. "I just saw Sam up there in line, but she looked like she was really uh..."busy" with the cashier, so I didn't stop to talk to her."
"Well, Sam will be Sam," I replied, with a resigned nod.
"True dat!" she agreed with a laugh.
I glanced around the dining area, and then turned back to Wendy.
"So, are you here by yourself?"
"Yes and no. I just ran in to grab lunch for myself and my mom...she's waiting out in the car," she replied, nodding toward the huge bay window, to the left of where I sat.
"Oh. Please tell her I said hello. So, how is your mom, anyway?"
"She's okay...and didn't we just pass you and Sam, over on Pine Street? I wasn't sure, because I only saw your backs...you both were looking in a store window?"
"Yes, that was us," I confirmed. "I was just watching Sam drool over a rugby shirt at Bandana Republic. Her birthday is next Saturday, so that's what I'm getting her."
Wendy smiled sagely.
"Well, aside from food, I can't think of any gift Sam would appreciate more."
"I can," I informed her. "What she'd love more than anything would be a trip to the circus...and I wanted to surprise her with one, but that...didn't pan out," I finished sadly.
"Really?" Wendy asked. "What happened, were they sold out?"
"No, tickets are still available, but Spencer is busy and can't take us...and he doesn't want us out past midnight if we're taking the bus that far."
"Wait...do you mean the Jingling Bros. Circus...over in Bristol?" she asked.
"Yeah, that's the one."
"Oh...I thought you meant that a circus was coming to Seattle next Saturday," she answered.
"No, I was planning for the two of us to celebrate early," I explained.
Wendy looked down at the tabletop thoughtfully for a moment, and then back up at me.
"Which show were you planning to take her to?"
"Eight pm, tomorrow night."
"Well, that works out well, because my mom and I are going tomorrow...to the eight o'clock show...and I don't think she'll mind if you catch a ride with us."
"Really?" I asked...
...entirely too loudly...
...causing at least six people at nearby tables to look up from their food...and stare at me...
...but I didn't care in the slightest...
...because I couldn't believe that I was looking at this incredible opportunity.
"Hang on for a second, I'll ask Mom if it's okay," Wendy offered, setting her shopping bag on Sam's empty chair, and then moving over to the window and waving her arms.
"Isn't your food going to get cold?" I asked, as I watched her trying to get her mother's attention..
"It's already cold. Two orders of gazpacho, two chicken salad sandwiches, and two chocolate shakes," she replied over her shoulder.
Within seconds, I heard a car door slam, and less than a minute later, Mrs. Carlson, who bears a very striking resemblance to Wendy (and is every bit as pretty) appeared from behind me.
"Carly?" she asked, looking somewhat surprised to find me there.
"Hi, Mrs. Carlson! It's nice to see you," I replied, smiling up at her.
Wendy turned to her mother.
"Mom, Carly and Sam wanted to go to the circus tomorrow night, but they don't have a ride. Would it be okay if they came with us?"
"Of course it would; I'd be happy to take you both," she replied without hesitation, turning back to me with a smile.
"Thanks Mrs. Carlson, you have no idea how much I'd appreciate that!" I exclaimed.
"It would be my pleasure," she assured me. "Do you have your tickets yet?"
"No, but I checked online this morning, and there's still some available for the eight o'clock show," I replied, reaching into my handbag for my phone. "I'll just order them now, while you're right h-"
"There's no need for you to do that, dear," Mrs. Carlson replied amiably. "I happen to have two extra tickets."
"You do?" I asked, surprised.
"Yeah," Wendy chimed in. "Going to the circus was originally my brother's idea. He wanted to take his girlfriend, and Mom bought four tickets so we all could go; but it turns out that Stephanie thinks clowns are creepy...so they're going to the movies instead...which means that it'll just be Mom and me..and there'll be plenty of room in the car."
"That would be perfect, we can all sit together!" I replied, reaching back into my handbag and pulling my wallet out. "Now, how much do I owe your for-"
Mrs. Carlson looked offended.
"Oh, no, dear, I wouldn't take your money! If you want the tickets, they're yours."
I shook my head vigorously in protest.
"Mrs. Carlson, thanks, but I couldn't possibly-"
She held her hand up.
"Carly, they're yours, so save your money. Here's what we're going to do. I have to go into the office for a couple of hours early tomorrow afternoon; but as soon as I finish, I'll pick Wendy up and then come for you and Sam...around four-thirty. We'll have an early dinner on the way over ther-"
"Well, if you're giving us those tickets, then dinner is definitely on me," I interrupted...
...but Mrs. Carlson reached down and covered my hand with her own.
"No, dinner is going to be on me...and please don't argue, because I insist! Tomorrow evening, you and Sam are coming as my guests. I haven't forgotten what you both did for us last Christmas."
(By 'us', she was referring to the Sunny Side Avenue Soup Kitchen, where she serves as a volunteer on the Board of Directors.)
Before I could protest again, she continued, "Last November, when Wendy told you and Sam about our Holiday Dinner Drive, you featured it on your show, for three weeks straight, and the response was amazing. Not only did local residents drop off an incredible amount of food, but donations of money poured in from your fans, from all over the country. Originally, it had been our goal to help seventy-five families, but we ended up helping almost three-hundred...and it was mostly because of you and Sam. I've never forgotten that, and now I want to show my appreciation."
Touched and grateful, I answered, "Thanks, Mrs. Carlson. I'm planning this trip as a surprise, for Sam's birthday...
...but then my voice trailed off...
...as an ominous thought occurred to me: Spencer and Mrs. Carlson barely knew each other.
"...but I'm still not sure Spencer will let me go," I concluded dejectedly.
"Well, let me talk to him," Mrs. Carlson offered, reaching inside her jacket and pulling her phone out.
"Sam's in line, Mom," Wendy announced. She's going to be here any minute, and this is supposed to be a surprise."
Mrs. Carlson glanced at her watch.
"Okay, why don't you give me Spencer's number, and I'll call him on our way home...and I'll have him call you right back with his answer."
With a badly trembling hand, I grabbed an index card and a pen from my bag, scribbled Spencer's cell number down, and held it out to her...
...and after thanking Mrs. Carlson again; and saying goodbye to her and to Wendy, they turned to leave...
...just in time, it turned out...
...because less than two minutes later, Sam reappeared...
...holding a tray piled high with food.
"What's all that?" I asked in surprise. "I thought you only ordered one pot pie."
She smiled at me triumphantly.
"Well, yeah, but when the manager heard me uh...'discussing' my order with the cashier, he came over to see if everything was okay, and, when he recognized me from iCarly, I told him all about the new 'Seattle Restaurant Reviews' segment we're going to feature on the show-"
"What are you talking about?" I broke in. "We're not planning to do any Seattle Restaurant Revi-"
"That's what you think!" she informed me...
...with grim determination...
...before continuing, "Anyway, when I told him that I was uh, 'less than delighted' with the service here...and that hundreds of thousands of people tune in every week..he decided to apologize...with this!" she concluded, setting the heaping tray down in front of me.
(For the record, JFC's fried chicken, mashed potatoes, biscuits, macaroni & cheese, cookies, and lemonade are really delicious...especially when they're absolutely free) but I was way too on-edge to do more than taste everything...
...because I was too busy struggling with both impatience and anxiety, as I waited for Spencer to call.
About ten minutes later, my phone (finally(!) vibrated in my pocket...
...and I jumped to my feet.
"Gotta-pee-be-right-back!" I blurted out, tearing up the aisle and toward the Ladies Room...
...which, mercifully, was empty.
Locking the door, and with heart hammering, I hit the 'on' key, and breathlessly clapped the phone to my ear...
...to hear a single word.
"Yes."
"Oh, Spencer, thank you! Thank you s-o-o-o much! You have no idea how much this means to me...and how much it's going to mean to her!" I gushed...
...so loudly that my voice's echo ricocheted off the bathroom's tiled walls and floors for nearly half a minute.
"You're welcome," he answered benevolently, as, greatly relieved, I flattened my back against the door for support.
"So, what are you up to today?" he continued.
"Having lunch with Sam...but I'm telling her right afterward!"
"Well then, I'll leave you to it. I'll see you at home this evening."
I thanked him again (profusely), said goodbye, and hung up; and then, smiling like a maniac, I tore back to my seat.
Sam looked up in surprise from her nearly empty pot pie bowl.
"Wow, that was a fast squirt!" she announced...sounding and looking incredibly impressed.
Ignoring this, I fell into my seat and snatched the oversized bag of sugar cookies off the table.
"Uh, so...what's up with you, anyway?" she asked, noticing my elated smile.
"Oh, nothing," I replied breezily...
...attacking them with gusto...
...and less than a minute later, with a look of alarm on her face; she leaned across the table and made a wild grab for the bag...
...with both hands.
"Hey! Save me some!"
Without hesitation, I held it out to her, and then just sat there...grinning at her like an idiot.
"Hmm...I suggest you tell me, Carls...because it's definitely not 'nothing'," she stated, cookie crumbs flying in all directions from her lips as she spoke.
"Well, okay," I admitted, "I have some big news...but I'll tell you after lunch."
Her face fell.
"What? Why can't you tell me now?" she demanded.
"Well, if I told you why I couldn't tell you...that would be the same thing as telling you!" I retorted...
...watching as her expression of confusion morphed into one of resentful suspense.
"Cupcake...spill...now!" she demanded...
...but I just shook my head and smiled mysteriously...
...and, slapping her palms onto the table top, she leaned across it, until her face was less than two inches from mine.
"Carlotta Taylor Shay...Iorder you to tell me, right n-"
I reached up and patted the top of her head.
"Later, Darling; and trust me, this is worth the wait," I answered...
..and then, with a reluctant, yet resigned nod, she turned (enthusiastically) back to our remaining food.
Fifteen minutes later, we were walking through the front entrance gates to Meridian Park...
...and I was absolutely bursting with excitement.
About twenty feet up the path, Sam (predictably) turned in the direction of Bushwell Plaza, but I took hold of her arm and gently steered her over to the park's usually deserted North East corner; over to the huge, ancient statue of Neleus & His Dolphin; which had been excavated over one hundred years ago from some seaside town in Greece...and had been gifted to the city of Seattle by the Greek government.
Sitting down on the bench nearest Neleus's marble plinth, I pulled Sam down beside me and turned to face her...
...and then, to my complete astonishment, she turned to me as well...
...too curious about my impending news to even stare at/make rude remarks about naked Neleus's fully-exposed genitalia...
...which (for the record), every time we're over here she never fails to do(!)...
...but instead asked, "Okay, now what's this big secret of yours?"
Brimming with the anticipation of seeing her delighted reaction, I replied, "Well, Sam, I know that your birthday is coming up this weekend..."
(Leaning forward expectantly, she nodded.)
"...and I was wondering if you'd mind if we celebrated it a week early this year?" I added.
She only hesitated for a moment before replying, "I guess not. So, what did you have in mind?"
I smiled indulgently before asking, "Sam, what's the greatest show on earth?"
"Girly Cow on Zombie Island: Meadow of Mayhem...hands down!" she answered enthusiastically...
...but I shook my head.
"No, Sam. I was referring to...the circus."
She frowned.
"Oh. I'm sure Oswell's Oddities isn't over there anymore...but if you want, we could go look again-"
"No, Sam," I interrupted, "I was referring to a real circus...like Jingling Brothers!"
"Aw, that circus never comes to Seattle," she answered dismissively...
...and accurately.
"You're right," I replied, "it doesn't...but it is over in Bristol this weekend...and you and I are going to see it...together...tomorrow night!" I announced...
...and her jaw dropped.
"What? N-no w-way!" she spluttered, as I reached down and grabbed both of her hands.
"Yes...we are!" I assured her. "Spencer's going to be busy, so he can't take us...but Wendy's mom can, because she and Wendy are going. I just talked to them at JFC, while you were up in line."
"Really?" she asked, still staring at me in stunned disbelief.
"Yes! Really! Do you think your mom will mind if you go?" I asked, somewhat nervously...
...wanting to make absolutely sure that I had covered all bases, and that nothing could and/or would screw this up.
"Aw, she won't care...but I'll call her anyway, if it'll make you feel better" Sam replied...
...and I nodded, and then sat next to her, still not entirely confident, as she pulled her phone out and dialed the number.
After what seemed forever, she finally said, "Hey, Mom! I'm going to Bristol, to the circus with Carls...no, not tonight...tomorrow night...what? Aw c'mon...not this Sunday! But I...but you...no I haven't forgotten...okay, fine! What time?" she asked bitterly...
...as my heart sank into my shoes.
Seconds later, she sprawled against the bench's backrest, looking incredibly relieved...
...and so did I...
...as she continued, "Oh, well that I can do. Technically, that's Monday morning,...not Sunday night. Yes, I'll be there by 3 am at the latest. So...I can go then? Yes, mom I Promise I'll Be There by 3! Okay, bye!"
She hung up.
I rolled my eyes.
"Let me guess...your mom is hosting another one of her 'little parties'."
"Correct."
"And she needs you there, to act as Bouncer."
"Very Correct, but I still can go with y-Oh, Carls, the circus...really?" she gasped.
"Yes, I promise!" I assured her...
...and she threw her arms around my neck.
I hugged her back as hard as I could.
"Don't worry, Honey," I murmured into her ear. "We're definitely going to go this time. Spencer said it's okay, and Wendy's mom already has our tickets."
Hearing this, she leaned back and looked at me.
"She does? Were they expensive?"
I shook my head.
"For us...no. Her mom's taking us to the circus and to dinner; and she's paying for everything, to thank us for helping the Soup Kitchen''s food drive last Christmas..."
I stopped speaking for a moment, before continuing...
...sternly...
"...and since she's being so incredibly generous, Samantha Joy Puckett, I want you to give me your solemn word that, tomorrow nigh-"
Sam exhaled huffily...
...yet resignedly.
"Okay, okay, Carls...I promise I'll be a gentleman!"
An hour later, after we'd arrived back home, while I was standing in front of my open refrigerator trying to figure out what to make for dinner (to show my profound appreciation to Spencer, for letting us go), he walked into the apartment, yelling, "Honeys...I'm Home!"
Slamming the door of the fridge, I hurtled into the living room...
...with my eyes riveted to the large shopping bag in his hand.
"Ooh, Spencer, you've been shopping! Whadya get? Whadya get? Whadya get?" I asked, jumping around him excitedly.
Obligingly, he opened the bag and pulled out a gorgeous, pale blue-and-white shadow-striped, Sussex Twill broadcloth shirt...followed by an Italian, navy silk tie; a pair of ribbed, over-the-calf, black dress socks; and a white linen pocket square, bordered in navy.
"Is all of this for tomorrow night?" I asked.
"Yes, to wear with my charcoal gray suit...what do you think?"
"Oh, Spencer," I exclaimed, "you're going to look so pretty!"
Hearing this, he blushed slightly while breaking into a wide smile...
...which suddenly dissolved, as he scrabbled around in the bottom of the bag.
"Oh no! I forgot to buy a belt, to go with my black tassel loafers," he moaned.
"You already have a black leather dress belt," I reminded him.
He shook his head.
"Not anymore. Last month, I accidentally spilled about a quart of turpentine on it...it's ruined." He glanced at his watch. "And the store's definitely closed by now."
"Well, there's always tomorrow," I pointed out.
"No actually there isn't," he corrected me. "I have to help Socko put the finishing touches on the portfolio of designs he's showing to that buyer from Atlantic City. It's a huge collection, over thirty illustrations, so it's going to take most of the day. When we're done, he's going to drop me off here so I can get ready for dinner, but there definitely won't be time to go shopping again."
"Well, Sam and I have to run downtown tomorrow anyway, and if you want us to, we can buy you a belt while we're there," I volunteered.
"Thanks, you'd be doing me a huge favor," he replied, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet.
Even though Sam and I had just had chicken for lunch, I threw a whole one into the oven to roast, with some red bliss potatoes and baby carrots around it, and a little over two hours later the three of us sat down to dinner.
About halfway through the main course, I turned to Spencer.
"So, any word from the governor?" I asked hopefully.
Almost immediately, he dropped his eyes to the tabletop and shook his head sadly...
...so sadly that I knew that the piece of sculpture that the two of them had discussed still hadn't been commissioned...
...and judging from his expression, probably wasn't going to be...
...and right then I made the decision that I wasn't going to upset him by asking about it again. But before I could say anything to console him, he asked me, "So, what do you two have planned for this evening?
"Girly Cow, wanna join us?" Sam mumbled, with her mouth full.
Not looking up from his plate, he answered, "No, I have to make some phone calls...but thanks anyway."
After we'd finished the entree, I found some Daagen Haz chocolate ice cream (Spencer's favorite) in the freezer, but he said he wasn't hungry anymore; and then headed, with shoulders slumped, for his room.
Sam's eyes followed him down the hall.
"Spencer skipping dessert? He's really disappointed about that deal falling through, isn't he?"
"Yes, and it's such a shame. He's so talented, and he works so hard...so why can't he catch a break?" I asked her...
...and, looking almost as disappointed as he did, she shrugged...
...staring downward in silent contemplation, while I cleared the table.
There's nothing like four new, back-to-back episodes of Girly Cow to help take your mind off your problems.
We especially liked the one titled Girly Cow vs. The High School Blob. The Blob, it turns out, was a hideous, appalingly-creepy classmate of Girly Cow's, named Danielle Schnyder...who attended the same Performing Arts school as Girly Cow did, and who fancied herself to be a budding screenwriter, but whose work SUCKED! Anyway, when she unveiled her latest abomination at Student Assembly...
...an animated short, starring Girly Cow and entitled I Date A Bad Bull...
...which had a script so horrendous, implausible, and absurd that it pissed off every single one of Girly's schoolmates (not to mention Girly herself), a huge, violent fight broke out across the entire auditorium...
...resulting in several thousand dollars worth of damage...
...and, after their three week-long detentions had ended, Girly and her uh, 'Very Special Friend', Bessie...now determined to avenge themselves of that cinematic travesty...put their heads together, and then pooled their allowances, and then put a carefully engineered (and permanent) stop to the problem of crappy, future movies from Danielle by treating her to lunch...
...at the city's nastiest, filthiest wienie wagon...
...the one over on Sal Monella Street...
...generously offering to buy her 13 hot dogs...
...while blocking her view of the cart's 'Failed Department of Health Inspection' sign with their bodies...
...and, after satisfying her gluttonous appetite by enthusiastically eating that much 'Street Meat'...
...from such a profoundly-unhygienic source...
...well, let's just say that the Blob's screenwriting days are now over...
..forever.
I love happy endings.
By eleven o'clock, we both were ready to turn in, but before I could even get up off the couch...
...Sam hopped up, reached down, picked me up...and carried me all the way up the stairs...
...while I lay contentedly in her arms...
...with my hands on her back and my head on her shoulder.
Predictably, Sam wanted to go to bed with all her clothes still on, because 'it saves time in the morning', and so (despite her protests), I ended up undressing her myself...
..and soon she was crawling resentfully under the covers, wearing just her T-shirt and boxers. Fortunately though, her sullen attitude was only momentary, because as soon as her head hit the pillow, she suddenly remembered what was on our agenda for tomorrow...
...and excitement was written all over her face, as she turned to me...
...without a word...
...and pulled me close to her...
...and I lay blissfully against her body, as she took me in her arms and began to rock me silently...
...back and forth...
...until everything around me began to blur...
...in the most pleasant way imaginable...
...before...
...finally...
...fading...
...into...
XXXXX
Less than seven hours later, we were fully awake...way too excited about the upcoming evening to even think of sleeping in. First things first, though, we both still had a full day of errands ahead of us.
At Sam's suggestion, I showered and dressed first, soon heading downstairs and into the kitchen...
...noticing as I did that she had thoughtfully prepared breakfast...
...and as I sat down to the heaping pile of Raspberry Fat Cakes, donuts, glazed crullers, and fudge ripple ice cream that she'd set on the table, I kindly (and sportingly) ignored my urge to scold her.
Once she'd finished eating (because we ran out of food), I sent her back upstairs to shower and get ready, while I dealt with the profusion of scattered, empty wrappers; and then with the multiple, red icing smudges from the Fat Cakes...
...which, thanks to her sticky fingers, now covered the tabletop like a violent rash...
...and then I headed upstairs for my backpack (rather than my handbag, since we were going shopping)...
...and to hurry Sam along.
A ten minute walk through the gray, misty morning haze landed us downtown...
...where our first stop was at my bank's ATM (just in case we needed cash for tonight anyway). After that, we headed to Fischer's Florist, where, after some discussion, Sam and I agreed on a huge bouquet of apricot roses for Mrs. Carlson, to show our appreciation. While paying, I requested that they be delivered to her office on Monday morning, and then we walked another two blocks, stopping at Brock's Brothers, where we picked out a black, Venetian calfskin belt for Spencer. Minutes later, we stepped into Somerset Jewelers (one of my watches needed a new battery).
Once it had been installed, and we'd had lunch at The Brittany Cafe (mushroom/Cheddar burgers), Sam pointed out that we didn't have to be home until 3:30, so we spent the next two hours wandering around down by piers at the Seattle Waterfront, drifting in and out of the shops and just enjoying each others' company. Sam looked far happier than I'd seen her in a very long while; and, all in all, it was a great afternoon...
...until we arrived back home.
The instant the elevator doors opened on Bushwell Plaza's eighth floor, Sam stuck her head out and looked carefully in both directions; and then, with a satisfied nod that indicated we were indeed alone, she took my left hand affectionately and walked up the hall with me.
As we stopped in front of my door, I reached toward my right-front pocket (and my keys), when suddenly, she grabbed both of my hands and whispered, "Wait!"
Before I could ask her what was wrong, she leaned in and kissed me.
Pulling back (two minutes later), I opened my eyes and asked, "Uh, what was that?"
"An emergency," she replied gravely.
"Sam, not here!" I hissed.
"Well, we can't inside," she reminded me, "Spencer's in there."
"That's not what I meant...I was referring to...Freddie!" I whispered loudly.
"Oh yeah...I forgot," she replied, shooting a filthy glance in the direction of his door, before taking my hand and leading me several steps up the hall, just out of sight of his peephole...
...and then turning back to me with a triumphant smirk...
...while I looked deeply into her eyes...
...and melted. And then, either feeling confident or just not caring anymore, I wrapped my arms around her neck...
...and leaned in...
...and promptly felt at least a thousand volts of power stun and paralyze my body, as she began gently caressing my lips with her own...
...while her arms moved upward to my neck...
...and my hands moved downward, wrapping themselves around her waist, as I pulled her close to me...
...and then gave myself over, losing myself completely in the moment...
...with Sam's body and lips pressed against my own...
...feeling certain that nothing heaven had to offer me could possibly top this...
...and wishing with all my heart that the moment never had to end...
...because I was having way, way too much fun...
...when suddenly, she gasped loudly.
Instinctively, I opened my eyes, to see her leaning to her left, and staring in open-mouthed disbelief...
...and turning, I followed her line of sight...
...which extended past my right shoulder...
...and over to Freddie's door...
...where I saw a flash of purple polo shirt, as he ducked inside and tried frantically to close it...
...but failed, as Sam jammed her foot inside...
...and then hurtled through it.
Seconds later, I recovered sufficiently from the shock and sprinted into the apartment after them...
...but it appeared to be completely empty...
...until, a moment later, I heard a loud banging sound coming from behind the door, followed by a very loud 'OW!" and, grabbing its knob, I quickly swung it away from the wall...
...to find the two of them behind it, and Sam holding onto the front of his shirt with both fists and yelling, "How dare you spy on us?"
"What's it to y-OW!" Freddie yelled again, as she slammed him against the wall again, his head bouncing off it a second time.
I grabbed her arm.
"Sam no!"
She ignored me.
"Sam...you promised!" I yelled again; and, at this reminder, she immediately let him go, letting her fists fall to her sides.
A second later, his right hand flew to the back of his head, and as he stood there rubbing it vigorously, he sneered, "Well, what's this, Sam? Does your wife have you pussy-whipped already?"
Anticipating a violent (non-verbal), retaliatory attack from Sam, I jumped between the two of them...but, as it turned out, there was no need. She just stood there fuming, as I continued to block Freddie with my body, hoping that they'd both just let the whole thing drop.
I hoped wrong.
Freddie, apparently, was only getting warmed up.
Glaring at Sam over my shoulder, he continued, "When I found out Carly's liked girls, I was hoping she meant human ones, not anima-OW! LET GO!" he yelled...
...as she agilely slid between my back and Freddie's front, and grabbed a fistful of his hair...
...but before she could swing him around in circles by it, I grabbed onto her wrist and somehow managed to pry her fingers free; and, with a cowardly yelp, Freddie jumped out of her reach, retreating quickly to the opposite side of the room, while I turned to Sam and grabbed onto both of her shoulders...
...and pushed her backward...
...trapping her firmly between my stomach and the wall. Before she could recover from her surprise and protest, I leaned forward and stated loudly, "Now, you listen to me! This is awful...and I want it to end!"
With an obliging and determined nod, she took a step sideways...
..and I tightened my grip on her shoulders, while shouting, "No! Not like that!"
She opened her mouth to argue...
...but I froze her with The Look, before continuing, much more softly, "You know as well as I do that Freddie's not the type to hold a grudge...so for him to act like this toward us, he must really be suffering...so we're going to let him get this off his chest...right now. You and I are both going to stand here, and we're going to listen to him...sympathetically; and then, no matter what's happened, and no matter whose fault it was, you and I are going to apologize...sincerely.
She shook her head violently...
...while I countered sternly, "Sam...have I ever asked much of you?"
Looking highly indignant, she opened her mouth again...
...but then I saw the change in her eyes...
...and the look on her face which confirmed that she realized I was right...
...and then, to my immense relief (but still with a look of extreme reluctance)...
...she shook her head slowly.
Immediately (before she had time to change her mind), I turned to Freddie, who was still cowering against the far wall.
"Freddie, will you please come here for a minute?"
Trying (and failing) to appear confident, he (tremblingly) swaggered across the room...
...and once he was standing fairly near us, yet still far away enough to avoid any sudden punches from Sam...
...he silently looked from me to Sam...
...and then back to me again...
...and I plunged right in.
"Look, Freddie, Sam and I know that you've been really upset lately...and we haven't really been very understanding about it..well, actually not at all. And that was really wrong; so now we both want to listen to whatever it is that you want to say to us.
His response surprised me.
Looking past my left shoulder and pointing an accusing finger at Sam, he yelled, "It's all her fault! She's ruined iCarly! Completely ruined it!"
"Wh-what do you mean?" I stuttered, stunned at this unexpected revelation.
"How can you even ask me that?" he demanded. "Have you forgotten already? We haven't done the show for more than a month now...and it's all because of her!"
I glanced quickly over my shoulder at Sam, whose face was currently unreadable..and then back to Freddie.
"Go on," I urged quietly.
"Why should I have to spell it out for you?" he snapped. "You're already well aware that she kissed me, more than once, and then, against my better judgment...I actually went out with her! And you saw how disastrously that ended...for all three of us! And that's why my mother has banned me from setting foot into your apartment again...indefinitely!"
Just when I thought that Sam was going to take no part whatsoever in this discussion, she (finally) answered, "Aw, your mom just overreacted...it didn't end that badly! I mean, it's not like your jaw was actually broken! And you were out of the hospital later that same day!"
I shot a warning glance in her direction as she continued, "So I don't know why you're so ups-"
"Oh, yes you do!" he shot back at her. "You used me! You let me think that you were in love with me...not even considering my feelings...just to use me as a front, because of all the negative comments we've been getting in our forums, from all the CAM haters!"
"Wait...what?" I asked...
...and he whipped his gaze from her to me.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about!" he retorted. "Last month alone, we counted over 2,000 horrible, hateful remarks...together...and I saw you reading a lot of them!"
Before I could even think of how I should reply to his rant, he continued, "Right after you told everyone at Webicom that I'm not dating you or Sam, that information went viral, and then the vicious, anti-gay remarks came pouring in, from people saying that I'm not dating either of you...because you're dating each other...and that they think it's disgusting! And that's when Sam started her plan to use me as a front, because she obviously was afraid we'd lose fans...if, no WHEN they found out that you both really are a couple!"
"But...but...I...we-" I began...
...but he cut me off...taking a step closer and yelling over my shoulder, "Deny it, Sam...I dare you to deny it!"
Cringing in anticipation of her response, I turned my head...
...to see her stuff her balled-up fists into her pockets and stare down at her sneakers...
...and as I was trying to figure out the best way to apologize for this, he whipped his face back toward mine.
"And now I don't even have the show to look forward to anymore! I worked so hard on it, and you and Sam always get 90% of the credit for everything...and I've never complained about that...not once! iCarly was the only thing in my life that was actually going right! It was a chance to get out my apartment one night a week, and something that made me feel like I actually have some control over my own life! Like I'm actually accomplishing something...something I can be proud of! You have no idea how much that means, when you've lived your entire life under the tyranny of-"
He was too choked up to continue...
...and the tortured way in which he was explaining his unbearable pain touched me deeply...
...and reaching forward and laying a hand on his arm, I began, "Freddie, I can't begin to tell you how sorr-"...
...but shaking it off roughly, he somehow found his voice again and continued, "What's even worse is how my mom, without even telling me, updated my blog while I was at school, telling the Entire Internet why we're not doing the show now...and how it's mainly because her 'little Freddie has zero chemistry with girls'...and because she 'fears for her little Freddie's safety'! You know as well as I do that I'll never be able to live down that humiliation!"
"Freddie, I'm so sorry that all of this has hap-" I began again...
...when he interrupted me, shouting, "But even that's nothing..NOTHING, compared to what YOU did to me, Carly!"
No sooner had the words left his mouth than I felt Sam's body, which was still trapped between my back and the wall, stiffen and begin to shake with anticipatory rage; but somehow, she remained silent, as she waited for him to finish.
"What do you mean?" I asked...
...more than a little apprehensively.
"Don't play stupid," he snarled, "we both know that you did the exact same thing! You Used Me! When I got hit by the taco truck last year, you saw that as the perfect opportunity to pretend to be 'straight'...so the kids at school would stop calling you and Sam 'The Dyke Duo'!"
"No! Freddie, it wasn't like that! Sam and I weren't even...together back then!" I stated earnestly.
"Don't give me that!" he snapped. "I haven't filmed the show for the past five years without noticing how you two are always hanging all over each other! But what makes it even worse coming from you, Carly, is that you Know how I've always felt about you...how deeply I've...for years now...and yet you still broke m-m...still u-used me!" he shouted, somewhat incoherently, before continuing...
...in a very unsteady voice, "And it wasn't just last year either! What about last month, when you deliberatl-"
"N-no, Freddie!" I gasped. "I swear, it w-wasn't like th-"
"Oh, yes it was!" he insisted, tears now brimming in his eyes and threatening to spill down his cheeks. "That's why you were constantly kissing me in the hallways at school. You wanted to make sure that everyone 'knew' that you weren't actually a man-hating, chain-wallet-loving, no-good, carpet-munching-"
I have no idea how I suddenly ended up standing five feet away from Freddie and Sam...
...only that her arms were a blur as they left mine and then slammed sideways and upwards, into the front of his throat, forcing him up against the wall again, as she yelled, "Shut up! Just shut up! You need to accept the fact that Carly will never really love you, but maybe...just maybe...some other girls would actually go out with you, if you weren't always acting like such a whiny, sniveling, jerk-wad! I don't feel the least bit sorry for you, Freddie! You deserve every single thing that's hap-"
"I'm not shutting up!" he gasped, his face now the same shade of purple as his shirt, as he struggled (unsuccessfully) to remove her forearms from his throat, while adding, "And, instead of trying to make me, why don't you go wrap your carpet-munching mouth around a-"
"Don't you DARE tell me what to do!" she shouted back...
...in a voice so ominous that I knew what was coming next...
...and I tore over to where they stood, running up behind Sam and clapping my left hand over her mouth, just as she yelled, "I hate you! I hate you so much...that I wish you were mmph!"
Stunned at my unexpected intervention from behind, she inadvertently dropped her arms...
...and, wrapping my right arm tightly around her waist...
...I yanked her backwards.
I'm not going attempt to fool myself (or you) by pretending that I could ever overpower Sam. The only reason I was able to successfully out-maneuver her at that particular moment was because, when I pulled her backwards, she was thrown off balance...
...and as a result, only the heels of her sneakers were in contact with the surface of Freddie's hardwood floor...
...so I easily dragged her out into the hall...
...sighing in relief as I heard him slam the door behind us.
Without giving her time to protest, I quickly unwrapped my right arm from her body, pulled my keys out, unlocked my front door, and then half-pushed/half-pulled her inside...
...causing us both to crash directly into Spencer who, in just his T-shirt and boxers...and with damp hair...was folding up our ironing board.
"Sorry!" I gasped, grabbing his arm to regain my balance.
With an understanding nod, he waited until I found my footing, and then dragged the board over to the closet, flung it inside, and shut the door...
...as I let go of Sam completely and began rummaging around in my backpack, finally pulling out the small Brock's Brothers bag and holding it out to him.
He took it from my hand and then bent down, picking up his charcoal gray suit and dress shirt, both carefully pressed, which were draped neatly over the back of the living room chair.
"Thanks again for the belt," he said quickly, not even opening the bag. "I'm sure whatever you picked out will be fine; and I'm sorry I can't chat right now, but they're going to be here in twenty minutes!"
"They?" I asked, surprised.
"Yes. Socko's picking them up at the airport and then coming here, so he can introduce me, before we all head over to the restaurant."
"Okay, Sam and I will be upstairs," I stated, grabbing her arm and dragging her toward the elevator...
...with her eyes still boring straight through my front door...
...and through the one across the hall as well.
Our first stop was the bathroom (we had a long ride ahead of us), and while we were there, (despite Sam's protests) I made sure we both washed our hands and faces.
As we entered my bedroom, she immediately walked across it and looked out the window.
"Aw, the sky is turning even darker. I hope we're not gonna get rained on!"
"We're going to be inside the main tent," I pointed out tersely, fighting the urge to tell her off for what had just transpired across the hall.
"Yeah," she acknowledged, "but if there's time afterward, I wanted to walk around and look at the side shows and other exhibits."
"Well, since it might rain, I was planning to wear my London Smog windbreaker...it's water resistant," I announced, while looking down at the gray zip-up hooded sweatshirt that she was wearing. "I"m sorry I don't have an extra one for you, though."
That's okay," she replied, "I'm wash and wear...hey wait a minute!"
Before I could ask what she had in mind, she tore out of the room; but was back less than five minutes later...
...holding the vintage, long khaki trench coat that she'd just pulled from our studio's Wardrobe Closet. About six months ago, while we were out for a stroll, Sam had spotted it in a thrift shop window...
...and it had given her the idea for our infamous 'Seattle Spy' skit; and, since the thing had only cost twelve dollars, we'd bought it.
"I'll take this with me...just in case," she announced. "It's a rain coat."
I nodded, watching as she opened her backpack and tossed six or seven items out of it to make room...
...sending them flying casually and carelessly around the room...
...and then rolled the coat up and stuffed it inside her bag. As she zipped it shut, I turned to my mirror and began brushing my hair...
...which had become rather messy during our 'brawl in the hall'...
...now barely able to continue to conceal my ire at what she'd just almost done to Freddie.
Once it looked presentable, and while still facing the mirror, I shifted my gaze to the right, to see Sam, still over by my bed, staring at my reflection...
...and easily reading my expression.
"Aw c'mon, Carls! Don't tell me you're still mad about-"
I spun around to face her.
"Hey, I have every right to be upset with you! After what's happened over the past few days, you know how dangerous wishes can be!"
"That's not true," she scoffed, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "What happened to us was only some kind of...weird...fluke."
"Oh, no it wasn't!" I shot back, shocked at her cavalier attitude, especially after all we'd just been through. "Have you forgotten what almost happened to us?"
She shrugged dismissively.
"Nothing almost happened...so you're getting all bent out of shape...over nothing."
"Oh, no I'm not!" I answered hotly. "You know you can't just go around wishing for-"
"Cupcake, that's not true," she insisted (infuriatingly). "Wishing is no big deal...here, I'll prove it to you...I wish...
(Hearing this, with my heart in my throat, I flung my hairbrush down and spun around...
...but before I was even halfway across the room, the rest of the words were out.)
..."that Spencer had a new Mercedes!"
"What did I tell you about wishing!" I yelled, quickly closing the distance between us, grabbing her upper arms, and giving her a shake.
"Aw, you never said that we could never wish again...you only said that we 'have to be really careful what we wish for from now on'!" she repeated (accurately).
I opened my mouth to protest...
...but she held her hand up.
"Look, Carls, I'm only doing this to prove a point...that wishing is bogus. And besides, even if this one did come true, you told me that Oswell said we should wish for others, not for ourselves...and I just did. Think about it, how many times has Spencer said he wants a car?"
I opened my mouth to answer, but she was on a roll
"...and you know that Mercedes is his favorite kind. And I'm not even wishing for myself...I promise you, I'm not going to ask him to drive me anywhere! So see? I'm not wishing for myself...I'm wishing for Spencer...for something that will make him really happy.
I opened my mouth yet again...
...but after less than five seconds' reflection, I closed it again.
She was right...about everything...and realizing that I was incapable of staying mad at her, I conceded, "Okay, Sam. I guess it's okay, since you're wishing for a new Mercedes...to make Spencer really happy."
With a satisfied smile, she leaned forward and kissed me quickly; and then, before I could recover from my surprise and kiss her back, she grabbed her backpack off the bed, shouldered it, and left the room...
...and, two steps behind, I followed her out the door...through the hallway...and down the stairs...
...to see a tall, well-dressed, dark-haired man, who was shaking Spencer's hand.
"Andrew Nielsen, nice to meet you," he stated with a smile...
...before gesturing to the very pretty woman who was standing next to him...
...looking absolutely stunning in a black cocktail dress.
"And this is my wife, Mercedes."