Christopher stuck his hands in his pockets. Things had changed so much. His sister had fallen in love with his ex-girlfriend, and the two were having a baby together. Rita comforted Karen after she caught her husband cheating. She’d just found out she was pregnant with their second child, and went to surprise him with the news at work. Only she was the one to be surprised when she went into his office. One thing led to another. It was a weird situation. Rita fell out of love with Christopher and into love with his sister, Karen. It pained him at the time, but he was glad Karen wasn’t alone. Rita and Karen were going to raise the children together. It wasn’t a traditional family, but his sister was happy.
Christopher scooped up his nephew. “Tell Paco and Charlene I said ‘hi’.” The two couples were meeting for lunch and then shopping for baby furniture. Lastly, Rita had booked a romantic carriage ride for the two of them. It was a day out for Karen, and he got to spend time with his nephew. He had two nephews, one from each sister, and it looked like they’d be adding a little girl to the mix. He couldn’t wait to meet his niece.
Chapter 4
It took a couple of days for Sam’s ankle to feel better, but at least she could still work. It was challenging at times, but with a handful of Ibuprofen, she was able to keep going. Icing her ankle when she got home, by the third or fourth day she was putting most of her weight back on it.
When the weekend rolled around, Winnie asked Sam if she wanted to go to the mall. She figured she’d be fine with small breaks in walking. She might hobble a little, but shopping was a cure all for just about everything.
Saturday afternoon, the girls made the trek to the mall.
“It’s not like Oscar even deserved me.” Winnie’s voice was tinged with anger. “I gave him the best time of his life, and how does he thank me?”
Sam sympathized. “Men can be jerks.”
“But I loved him.”
“I know you did.”
“I’m not going to find another guy. Look at me. Men aren’t exactly beating down my door to get to me,” Winnie grumbled.
“Stop that kind of talk. You’re a catch. You’re strong, smart, daring, a great cook, and...”
“...you didn’t say attractive.”
“You are.”
“I’m masculine. His mother referred to me as handsome, not pretty.”
“I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say.
“I hate feeling whiny. I don’t like whiny.”
Winnie needed to wash the pain away. Shopping always made things better, and if there was a goal in mind, she could focus herself with distraction.
“What’s the quest?” Sam asked, changing the subject.
“I need a purse. I’m looking for a fun but sensible bag, maybe in a bold color.”
“Okay, a purse it is.”
“I can never find the right strap length. It’s either ridiculously short or too long. And some of them are so narrow that I can’t fit it over my arm to my shoulder.”
“What about a cross body style?” Sam offered helpfully.
“It depends where it falls. I mean, some of them fall too high, because I need more strap length.”
“Adjustable strap?”
Winnie sighed. “Even at the longest, some of them just don’t work. They don’t make dainty purses for women who look like linebackers.”
“I hate to see you this way. You’re usually so much stronger.” Sam was truly worried about her friend.
“I’m not feeling very special right now. I shouldn’t have given him an ultimatum. Maybe I can take it back.” Her face was slack and her eyes dull. She was broken up over the loss of her guy, and feeling like she’d be alone forever.
“Don’t you dare. He wasn’t the right guy for you.”
“He had a big dick.”
Sam smirked. “Big dick or not, he wasn’t the right guy for you. And really? I don’t picture him having a big penis.”
“Why is that?”
“I don’t know, but I just figured he was more a floppy balls kind of guy, and an average penis.”
“Wrong, big penis... though he does have floppy balls, you were right about that. It’s not like he was a stallion in bed or anything, but at least when he used it, I could feel it.”
“Well, it’s time to move on,” Sam declared.
“I’m not going to get laid for a century,” Winnie sighed.
“Hang in there, Winn. Get a vibrator.”
“As if I don’t already own one,” she smirked.
The girls floated from store to store.
“Oh, let me check out the bathing suits. I’ve been meaning to get a new one.” Picking through the rack, Sam found two to try on. Walking to the fitting room, they heard a girl fighting with herself in the mirror.
“Really? This is what you call tummy toner material?” The voice sounded familiar. “Stupid ass bathing suit.”
“Becks?” Samantha quizzed.
“Sammy?”
“Yeah.”
“Be out in a minute. I am not having a good experience. This stupid bathing suit is obviously the wrong size, and I don’t know what their idea of a tummy tuck panel is, but it’s doing jack shit for me. And don’t get me started on the size of this fitting room. It’s like the size of a high school locker. It doesn’t help that the cut of this bathing suit is made for six year olds, not girls with boobs and tummies. Tummy tuck panel, my ass.”
Sam winced and hoped she had better luck. “Hang in there.”
Becky yelled over the door. “I’m ready to claw my way out this thing that considers itself a bathing suit. It looked so cute on the hanger, too. I’ll be out in a second.”
Becky wiggled and jiggled, trying to untuck herself from the suit. It didn’t make for a pretty sight, with three-way mirrors displaying each jiggle. Peeling the swim suit off, she got redressed. With a sigh, she gave up on the expedition.
“Hey, Winnie.” Becky didn’t realize she was there with Sam.
Winnie nodded hello in response. “Becky.”
“Sorry about Oscar. Samantha told me.”
“It’s fine.” She held her own, but she wasn’t feeling very good about the situation. Oscar made her happy, even if he wasn’t the best guy in the world. He loved her and made her feel beautiful. Not many guys had made her feel that way before. She knew she wasn’t traditionally beautiful, but she wasn’t exactly an ogre either. It’s just that he had a way of seeing her like others didn’t.
“Be out in a second.” Sam slid into a fitting room. Who designed these things? The way too small dressing room had three way mirrors, a tiny bench to sit on, and two hooks. At least it had a door; she liked these way better than the ones with the curtain. Glaring white lights shone down, heating up the space. In two minutes time she’d be cooked like a rotisserie chicken from the heat of the light bulbs.
Taking the black one piece off of the hanger, she put it on the little bench and disrobed. Met with a three way mirror and unflattering angles, Sam groaned. Stepping into the bathing suit, she pulled it up. It bunched up over her panties. Ugh, this was not going to be pretty. Slipping her hands through the arm holes, she pulled it on. She neatly tucked each breast into the fabric, and shifted and wedged the material around. The arm straps weren’t cut right and felt too short. Did she have freakishly tall shoulders? Tugging at them, she gave up.
Turning to the side, she was horrified by her reflection. She looked swollen and pregnant. Sam gasped. When did I...this must be a mistake. She dropped onto the little bench and sat. How had she not felt it? Surely she should have noticed. Her belly protruded farther than it had in the past. Wouldn’t her pants have been snugger? Well, maybe if she wore jeans. She’d gotten really comfortable in elastic waist bands lately. They were so much more comfortable and had more give, but there was no hiding the change in her body.
Turning to glare at her body from the front, she lifted her arms. The winged flesh hung below them. How? All the time she’d spent working out, why didn�
��t she have solid, ripped arms? Sure, she was strong inside, but you certainly couldn’t see it on the outside.
Sam pushed the flab under her arm and watched it jiggle in the mirror. This was depressing. It was almost too hard to look away. The three way mirror showed every tiny flaw to her full-figured body. She suddenly felt bigger than she wanted to be. She was normally pretty confident, even with the extra weight, but confronted with these unflattering angles, it was uncomfortable to look at herself.
Sam’s stomach knotted. She wasn’t happy with what she was seeing. It was time to get back to the gym and buckle down.
“How are you making out?” Becky’s voice carried over the door.
“Eh.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“I’ll be out in a minute.” Sam pouted. She decided not to try on the second suit. The last thing she wanted to be was depressed. She couldn’t get the bathing suit off fast enough at this point. She’d had enough.
Winnie and Becky made small talk while waiting on Sam. It was always awkward. Winnie was direct and gruff, while Becky was more soft and careful with her words. Sometimes it was uncomfortable talking to Winnie. She was just different.
Sam placed the bathing suits on the rack, and rejoined her friends. “I feel fat.”
“Why do you say that?”
Samantha glared, “Why do you think? Look at me. Why didn’t anyone tell me I was gaining more weight? I didn’t even notice. I’m in scrubs for work so much, and holy cow, I’ve let myself go. I’ve gotten lazy.”
“You are not lazy. You take all those fitness classes and stuff.” Becky said.
“And I use it as an excuse to eat more junk. I need to take better control of my life. What if I get bigger?”
“Do you want to know what I think?” Winnie asked.
Sam thought long and hard. Winnie would say it like it is, and a good dose of truth might be good, but it might sting like hell, too. “I’m not so sure I can handle it right now to be honest, Winn.”
“Well, you’re going to hear it anyway. You’re beautiful inside and out. And if you let a few extra pounds let you feel anything less than that, you’re a fool.”
Samantha’s jaw dropped. She wasn’t expecting it. Becky was looking at her, too. She’d misjudged her. They were some of the most incredible words she’d ever heard come out of Winnie’s mouth.
Sammy hugged Winnie. “Thank you.”
Chapter 5
The afternoon panned out better than Sam had hoped. Winnie showed a soft spot that doesn’t see the light very often, Becky finally found a bathing suit that didn’t make her groan and bitch, and Sam witnessed something she wasn’t expecting.
Old Lady Chagas lived on the first floor. She’d tell you every chance she got. “I’m over in Unit 102. Stop in and keep an old lady company time to time. Have some pie.” She’d wander up and down the hallways with her walker, always lingering at the mailboxes in the hallway. It was kind of creepy, how she was always watching people. Sam wanted to be a good neighbor and make the effort, but every time she thought about it, she froze. There was a weird smell coming from her apartment that was some kind of odd mix between sauerkraut and decaying bodies – old people smell. One time, Sam stood about ready to knock when the smell seeped under the door, and it stopped her dead in her tracks. She tried, really she did. Ever since that moment she avoided eye contact, so the old woman wouldn’t call her out.
Christopher was gathering his mail and talking to Mrs. Chagas. “I got you something for your walker,” he started.
“You did?” She sounded surprised and delighted.
He dug into a bag and pulled out two tennis balls he’d sliced. “These will help you move easier. I can help you put them on.”
“Oh, my friend Freda uses those. She thinks just because she gets to Bingo early she can take anybody’s seat. Some people,” she grumbled.
“Here, let me put these on for you.” Christopher bent down and slid the sliced tennis balls onto the feet of her walker. They would help the walker glide.
It was sweet. He was gentle and kind with her. He spoke with patience, and listened to her stories. Sam walked by, after a brief hello, until she heard the woman’s next sentence.
“Ugh. That girl’s truck is taking your parking spot, and it’s such an ugly van. I left her a note to tell her we all hated the thing. It’s an eye sore,” she spat out.
Sam backed up. Oh, no she didn’t. “The last I was told, there wasn’t assigned parking.” Her voice was full of attitude, and she was getting ready to lay into the old woman. “And that van is how I run my business. I’m an independent businesswoman, taking care of myself, and if you can’t respect that...”
Christopher took her arm. “Oh, what’s that, dear? Right, we should be going.” He nodded to Old Lady Chagas, and guided Samantha by the elbow down the hallway, whispering, “Please don’t get her started. We’ll never hear the end of it.”
Sam was frustrated. “I don’t know what to make of you. One minute you’re doing something sweet and tender, helping the woman, the next you’re practically calling her senile. One minute you’re telling me how horrible I am, the next you’re basically carrying me back to my apartment. Would you figure out who the hell you are, and let me know? I can’t deal with this talking out of two sides of your mouth crap. Have a good day.” She yanked her arm away, and headed for the elevator. “Why don’t you take the stairs,” she snarled.
The nerve! He pulled her away just when she was ready to give it to the old broad. She was something like one hundred and eighty years old. I mean, rude is rude, but did she really need to spend her time battling with some white haired bitty? Samantha exhaled deeply. The people in this building are crazy. She should have never moved here.
Christopher sighed. Doesn’t that girl understand that if the woman in Unit 102 is miserable, so is everyone else? She wasn’t here when she systematically rode the elevator to each floor, with letters and tape tucked into a pocket attached to her walker, with a note that gave a list of her grievances with people in the building. Sam wasn’t here when the woman started egging cars that blocked the handicap ramp into the building. She couldn’t know about the time when she was angry with the mailman and put pieces of duct tape over every single key lock to every single mailbox in the building, when most people were sleeping. Old Lady Chagas was a handful, and the best method of living near her was by playing nice.
He could tell her, try to explain her history, but why bother? It’s not like he owed her anything. And honestly, the girl was more trouble than she was worth. Sure, she was cute, smelled good, and had a lot of soft, squishy curves, but her personality was like a keg of dynamite just waiting to explode.
**
“I need a favor.” Becky’s tone had softened by the time she called.
Sam knew what it meant. “Come on. You’ve set me up with so many losers.”
“I need you to test them out for me. Come on, Sam. You’re my ace in the hole.”
“What’s the matter with this one?” Sam asked cynically.
“Nothing, but that’s the problem.”
“Nothing?”
“He’s gorgeous, has a good job, is respectable on his application, and is open to meeting anybody with a big heart to share.”
“Aw.”
“Right, I call bogus. His responses sound like a girl wrote them. He tried too hard.”
“You’re right, it does sound girly. Maybe his sister helped him fill it out,” Sam replied helpfully.
“And his picture? This guy doesn’t need help getting dates. He’s built like an underwear model, with the face of a god. Something isn’t adding up.”
“Okay, you’ve stirred my curiosity.” So he was good looking and built like a model? It couldn’t hurt to check him out for her friend, could it?
“That a girl,” Becky replied happily.
“You owe me if this turns out badly.”
“Fine, I’ll toss in a bottle of wine and
a pedicure.”
“It’s a deal,” Sam agreed.
“I’ll send you his information.”
“Give me a second. I just got in. I’ll go flip open my laptop.”
Changing the subject while she waited, Becky said, “So...Winnie surprised me. I didn’t know she had a soft spot.”
“Once you get past the wall she guards herself with, she’s a good egg.”
“I just never really got her.”
“She was bullied a lot, Becks, growing up. You know that. I think she just toughened herself, and it stuck with her. If she doesn’t give a crap, people can’t hurt her,” Sam explained.
“I guess.”
“Okay, pulling it up now.” She paused. “Wow. Do you think that’s really him?”
“Right? I just think it’s odd that he’s coming to a dating agency. He doesn’t look like he’d be hard up.”
“Maybe he’s painfully shy. Or maybe he doesn’t have time to meet women. He’s obviously too busy being an underwear model,” Sam joked.
“Maybe he used a fake picture and lied. You need to figure out how much of this is truth, and how much is fantasy. Is he a legend in his own mind?” Becky’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
“Got it.”
“I’m not putting him live on the site until I hear back from you, but I included his email address in the message to you.”
“I’m on it. I’ll get back to you when I know more.”
“Thanks.”
Spaghetti Arms would have been a more appropriate nickname for Nick when Sam met him a few days later. Nick said he was six feet two inches tall. He was five foot six. Nick said he was a model. Nick was a shoe salesman. Nick said he worked out five days a week. Nick looked like he hadn’t seen a gym in years.
“Why, Nick? Why lie?” Sam couldn’t understand what the man was thinking. It was obvious that as soon as the women saw him, and if they’d even be able to find him because he looked so different than his picture, the truth would be out. His lie would be busted wide open.
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