Andy and SamanthabywakingDown©
All characters are over 18. This is a long build up story.
Andy sat at his desk, headphones jammed into his ears, fast and loud thrash metal audible from across the room. He was banging out an email to his ex-girlfriend, trying to assure her that, yes, he was in fact done with her. She had been just as obstinate last week when he told her after work. He had learned through a coworker that she had been fucking one his friends, and his friend had come clean about it when Andy called him on his cigarette break.
Andy didn't hear his door open. He didn't hear the footsteps behind him. He didn't know anyone was there until he felt the tap on his shoulder. He jumped, more than a little startled, and pulled the headphones out as he spun around in his chair.
"Shit! Sammy, you scared the piss out of me!" He said, his heart slowing back down.
"I see. Sorry about that. I knocked and you didn't answer. Hell, you didn't answer when I said your name right next to you. I could hear that shit from the door. Mom and dad just left, and mom said to tell you that there was money on the counter for food." Samantha said, trying not to giggle.
"Ok. I told her I could take care of dinner." Andy said, not surprised.
"I'll be in my room if you need anything." Sammy said, before skipping out of the room.
Andy sat a moment, trying to figure out what he should do next in his life. He had graduated college, gotten a job as a warehouse manager, moved into his girlfriend's place, and had begun a life for himself, thinking everything was going right. Then this mess with Helen, his ex, and he moved out. He only took his stuff that he had brought when he moved in, clothes and old CD's mostly. He had moved back in with his parents until he could find a new place. It had only been a week, but it felt longer. His room had been turned into an office for his father, and they had been welcoming enough, but he still did not want to stay. He liked having his own place. He was 26, too old in his opinion to be living at home. His sister still lived here, but that was because she had not wanted to move into a dorm when she went to college, and their parents did not think it was safe for her to find an apartment with whoever she could the way Andy had. Andy had chosen a rough life growing up, only deciding to clean up his act after a close call the year after high school that neither his parents nor Sammy knew all the details about. He could handle himself in a 'scraping by' way far better than his sweet and innocent little sister ever could. She was a sophomore this year at the same school he had gone through. His sophomore year had been funded by his part time crap job as a deliveryman and by selling whatever drugs he could quickly turn around, a skill set that Sammy had not picked up in her good girl high school years the way he had.
He sighed and shut the laptop with a snap. Fuck her. She can wait on another email that was just a re-wording of "Eat shit and die in a fire." He went to the kitchen, grabbed the money off the counter and went to his parents' room. He left the cash on his mom's dresser and pulled out his cell phone. He went to his sister's door and knocked. When she hollered he opened the door, and found her, surprise surprise, doing her homework.
"I'm gonna order pizza, if that's ok. Don't feel like cooking anything or driving out to get something." He said, leaning on the door frame.
She set her notebook aside and frowned. "Pizza isn't all that healthy, you know." She said.
"Won't be the first unhealthy thing I've ever done." He shrugged.
"Yeah, no kidding. I'll fix something, what do you want? I need a break anyways." She said, tossing her pen down and stretching.
"Um, whatever is fine. I'm not picky." Andy said, trying not to notice how she looked, arms up and back arched. Her t-shirt was tight enough that her breasts and nipples were easy to pick out, and her stomach was tight, just a hint of the muscles underneath showing. He hadn't seen her in almost two years before moving back in, and she had grown a bit since then.
"Ok. Fried rice and noodles it is." She said, skipping past him to leave.
He watched her go, her butt flexing nicely under her cutoff jean shorts. He shook his head, chiding himself. She was 20 now, and it seemed she had grown out of her gawky stage after all. The last time he saw her she still looked gangly and awkward even at eighteen. A late bloomer where he thought she would be a no bloomer, just always a wiry, flat chested, no butt bookworm. Apparently he had been very wrong. She was still a little weird though, as she still skipped everywhere whenever possible. She was still extremely shy around everyone but family, and even with the family she was the quiet one. As he heard her start to sing, he confirmed that, yes, she still sang whenever she cooked, just belting out whatever song was going through her head at the time. Tonight it was Heaven and Hell. He frowned at that, as he had never heard her so much as listen to anything harder than Shania Twain or the Spice Girls, much less sing any Black Sabbath.
"Oh well, Sabbath certainly beats the shit out of the Backstreet Boys." He muttered under his breath, walking to the kitchen. He grabbed a beer and sat at the table, trying to ease his headache. He listened a little closer and heard a fairly good go at sounding like Dio, and smiled a bit. She was scrambling eggs when she finished Heaven and Hell.
"So since when do you sing Black Sabbath?" He asked when she finished.
"Oh, I kinda got into rock a couple years back. I dunno, I just kinda started to check it out. See what all the fuss was about. I like a lot of it." She said, looking a little guilty. There was the shy streak he knew.
"Cool. So, anything like Slayer or Exodus? Or just like the hard rock stuff?" He asked, grinning. There was no way she would be listening to the deafening metal that he listened to.
"Well, I like Exodus, but I don't like some of the stuff Slayer sings about. Like Payback? Ugh, not my cup of tea, but some of their stuff is good. I really like Metal Church, though, their guitar player guy plays some neat sounding stuff, and the songs are about neat stuff."
Andy sat shocked. Here was his little goody two shoes sister talking about Metal Church and Slayer. He almost wanted to look around for a hidden camera because this had to be a joke.
"You have to be absolutely shitting me. What happened to the crap you used to listen to? The Britney Blowjob and Shit-tastic Twain?" He asked, using the phrases that had gotten her so mad when she was a kid. Now she just laughed and kept cooking.
"Shit-tastic Twain. I'd forgotten all about that one. I still listen to all that stuff, but now I listen to heavier stuff too. People change. Hell, look at you. Whatever happened to coming home a bloody mess, drunk and god knows what else, with new stitches you sewed yourself? Now you wear button-down shirts instead of greasy rags with band logos on them." She replied, mixing the eggs with the rice.
"Well if I want a job that doesn't get me shot at then I need to dress nice. I don't always wear that crap." He answered, pointing at his chest to the Megadeth shirt he was wearing. Though she did have a point in that the shirt was clean, and had no holes or burns.
"As long as you're not getting shot at I'm happy. I was worried most of the time you were gone, you know. With the way you used to be, I was always scared you were gonna get yourself killed." She said in a quieter, more serious tone.
"Hell, Sammy. You know I can take care of myself. And I called while I was gone, mostly. It's not like I just up and disappeared for years at a time." He said, his chuckle sounding a little forced even to him.
"It felt like you did, sometimes. And I know mom worried like hell, but she did pretty good at hiding it." Sammy replied, seasoning the noodles.
"Sometimes, back then, I thought that you guys would have been better off if I had disappeared." He said, his voice now the quiet one, staring at his beer.
"Don't say shit like that, Andy. You had us worried enough as it is before you figured out how to live in society." She said, fixing two plates.
She set his plate down and sat next to him. They ate in a slightly awkward silence for a bit before she looked up.
"So what's the deal with Helen, if it's ok to ask?" She asked.
"Well, everything was going fine, then she fucked a buddy of mine behind my back for a few weeks before I found out. So I moved out. Not much to tell." He said, not really wanting to talk about it. He figured he would tell her whatever she wanted to know if she pressed, though. He had always liked his kid sister despite their differences, and hated to lie or hide the truth from her.
"Why would she do that?" Sammy asked with a frown.
"Sam, If men knew why women did half the shit they do, then this world would be a much calmer, less confusing place." He said with a sigh, getting a laugh out of her.
"Fair enough. Not all women are like that though. Don't judge all of us because you found a bitch." She said. She had never met Helen, but had never really liked her.
"She was just the last in a string of them. And she was the first that I had lived with. Oh well. At least I found out she was a cheater early. Know what I mean?"
"If you went for a higher caliber of girl than the ones you've always chased, then you probably wouldn't have those problems."
"Old habits and shit. Maybe I'll just take some time off from women, get myself sorted out, and try again later."
"Don't take too much time off, or you might miss a good one." She said, a little grin on her mouth.
After he had washed the dishes, he sprawled out on the couch, watching TV. He dropped his feet off the couch without thinking when he heard his parents' car pull into the driveway. They came in, mom a little tipsy from their date night.
"Hey guys. Have fun?" Andy asked, killing the TV.
"We had a ball, but I am exhausted." His mom said, a slight slur in her voice. "I think it's an early bed night for us."
"Yes indeed." His father added, leading mom into the hallway. "See you morning."
Andy didn't want to think about what 'early bed night' might entail, so he went upstairs to his room. He opened the door and found Sammy sitting cross legged on his bed.
"Early bed night?" She asked, putting her book down.
"Yeah, that's what mom called it."
"Ew. Could I stay in your room until they actually go to sleep? Their 'early bed nights' can be heard pretty clearly through the vent in my floor." She grimaced.
Andy laughed and nodded. He was fine with it, and liked talking to his sister. He sat on the bed next to her and flopped onto his back, hands behind his head.
"Can I ask you a serious question?" Sam asked, looking shy again.
"Sure kid, you know you can." He answered.
"What happened that night?" She almost whispered.
'That night' could only mean one night in particular. The night he decided to get out of his bad lifestyle. She had been thirteen, he was eighteen. His parents had never been able to get him to tell what the problem actually was, and Sammy had never asked, worried about what the answer might be. Andy sat up and looked at his hands. He thought about it, thought about lying, and thought about how the truth might affect his relationship with his sister. After a moment, he sighed and decided that she deserved the truth.
"Me and a few other guys were a couple towns over, trying to make a big sale. I had a couple hundred pounds of weed, and Vic, you remember him?" She nodded "he had about fifty pounds of coke. We were told that a couple of guys were willing to buy it all for a good price. The price was good. A bit too good. We should have seen it coming a mile away, but we were both pretty heavy into the coke by then. We just thought 'fuck yeah, offload this for a helluva profit and reinvest' and that was it. We got there, an old empty store. We went through the back door, like we were told. Just me and Vic and Ricky. Ricky was supposed to be our back-up. What a joke. Ricky might be big, but that's it. He doesn't know how to fight, and he doesn't know how to shoot. We went in and there was, like a dozen guys. All holding guns. The guy in the middle asked why we thought we could sell in his county. I told him 'because I have shit to sell fuck-nuts'. He was less than thrilled. As soon as the guns came up we ran back out the door. I had a piece of shit revolver, a cheap little .38 snub-nose. I fired it over my shoulder as we ran. Vic had his dad's Colt. He fired over his shoulder. Ricky had a little .22 automatic. He fired into the air, behind us, beside us, fucking everywhere. We're lucky Ricky didn't kill us himself. As it was, he was the one that grazed my shoulder." He said, rubbing his right shoulder just above the chest absently. "The only person who had a shot at my front was Ricky, running right beside me. We split up at the train tracks. Vic went into the Greyhound station down the street and hid under a bus, ditching his duffel bag of coke at the tracks. I slung my duffel into the culvert under them. Ricky went right, following the tracks a ways before cutting into the parking lot of a bar. I ran down the tracks all the way to the switchyard. Two guys were right on my ass, shooting. My shoulder was killing me, my coke had mostly worn off, and I felt my pants leg tug right before I felt a line of pain on the outside of my thigh. One of the shits had grazed me. I veered hard into the space between two boxcars and started weaving through the other cars that were all around. I stayed ahead of them for the most part, but they fired every time they saw me. That's when this one happened." He held up his left hand, pointing at the long scarred gouge that ran up the side of his palm, from wrist two the base of his little finger, which still stuck out a little crooked, and always would from the badly healed break. "I worked my way towards the train yard offices, knowing that there would be lights and security guards there, and that if I could hide near them, that the assholes would have to give up the chase. They did when they noticed where I was going. The security guards were already raising a ruckus about the shooting, and were screaming into their radios for someone to call the cops. I hid under boxcars and shot through the shadows, working my way back to the other side of the tracks. I stole a bike that was leaning against a house and pedaled back to the side street where Ricky had left his car and laid down in the back seat. I ripped up the greasy towel in the floor board and wrapped my leg and hand, and just held what was left against my chest. Ricky showed up about twenty minutes after that. He said Vic had boosted a car and left. Me and Ricky got back here as quick as we could. Ricky was fine, and couldn't stop apologizing once I told him he had shot me. That was the night Vic went up for Grand Theft Auto and Assault with a Deadly Weapon. When I got back here, I must have looked like hell."
Sammy, who had been silent through this nodded, and said "Yeah, mom, wouldn't stop crying. I remember her screaming about going to the hospital and the cops, and how you had to tell her what happened because she was you mom."
"Yeah. I stitched myself up that night too. The next morning is when I heard on the news that one of the drug dealers had been shot. He had been shot with a .38. He didn't die, but it was a near thing. I took the pistol and buried it that day. It's probably still under the bleachers." He scoffed.
"Bleachers? What bleachers? The only ones I know of are at the high school. You buried a gun at school? Holy shit, Andy! Why not the river, or a dumpster, or something? The school? Really?" She was close to yelling, and from her red eyes close to crying as well.
"I was still shaking the coke out of my system. I wasn't really thinking. I forgot it was in my pocket until I was almost in the parking lot. So I ran over to the field and jammed it under the trash can back there. After school was out, I went back with a buck knife and ripped up a hole, about a foot and a half deep and buried it right there. Who's going to look for a gun buried at a high school?" He explained.
"And that was the thing that it took for you to wake up? Getting shot three times in a drug deal that ended with you shooting a guy and your buddy going to prison? Fuck, Andy, you're a smart guy. You would think you would have figured it out way before then." She muttered. Tears finally falling down her cheeks.
"Hey, don't cry, Sammy. Please. I know, I was acting like a fucking idiot and I wasted a lot of time on doing it. I never wanted to worry you guys, that's why I didn't tell you. But I learned from it. I dropped the drugs, dropped a lot of pissed off friends, and took the GED. Made a run at college, surprised myself by passing, and I'm trying to live well now. I don't sell drugs anymore, not even to pay bills as a last resort. I've got a good job, and I actually like the work. I'm trying to do good here." He said, his voice quiet and rough.
Sammy put her head on his shoulder, and he put his arm around her, rubbing her arm.
"Just make sure you don't go back to doing that shit. I mean it. I know a lot of people backslide and go back to drugs and crime and stuff, but don't you dare." She whispered.
"I won't. I'm a new man. Especially now. I'm gonna get a place, go to work, keep my nose clean, and fly right. Don't you worry about that. Hell, maybe own a house and get married someday." He chuckled.
"Someday." She echoed.
Sammy left a little while after that, saying a quiet goodnight and walking down the hall. He noticed that she didn't skip, and wondered at what that meant. He hoped that he hadn't fucked up his relationship with one of the few people that liked him in the world. He turned off the lamp and rolled into bed, settling in for a night of little sleep.
He woke up to the harsh glare of the sun coming in through the open curtain and someone sitting on the edge of his bed poking him on the chest.
"Hey, get up lazy. It's almost nine." Sammy said as he blinked and sat up.
"Shit. I'm up, I'm up." He grumbled. Sammy pointed at a mug of coffee on his desk and stood up.
"Breakfast will be ready soon. Go shower, you smell like a monkey-house." She said, then skipped out of his room. He heard her start singing in the kitchen as he shuffled into the bathroom, gulping coffee. Hall and Oates today. "Good god, not this early." He grumbled to himself as he shut the door and turned on the water.
He came down the stairs to the rich smell of eggs, bacon, and hash browns. His stomach groaned and he sat down in front of the plate next to Sammy.
"Awesome. Thank you Sam." He said.
"Mmhmm. Mom and dad took off, they said they wanted to head down to the outlet mall and check out a couple of sales. They should be back this evening. You know how mom is down there.
"Yeah. Hey, about that night,' he started, but she cut him off by putting her hand on his thigh.
"It's ok. It happened a long time ago. But I'm glad you told me the truth." She said evenly.
"Ok" he said, then paused. "How do you know I told you the truth?" He asked, frowning.
"Oh. Well, uh, I sort of dated someone that knew about it." She said, turning red. Her hand was still on his thigh, but he wasn't thinking about that.
"Wait. You what?" He asked, surprised. "No one knows about that, no one but me, Vic and Ricky. Who the hell did you date?"
"You dated that turd? Jesus bloody fisted Christ! He's a tree trunk! In size and intellect! Why the hell would you date one of my loser buddies?" He almost yelled.
Her face went a deeper shade of red and she looked at her plate, her shoulders hunched a little.