After talking to Dr. Abernathy, Sam is distracted and distant.
Sam wasn't very talkative at dinner. Even the subject of music didn't grasp his attention for long. His friends couldn't get a rise out of him until Carlos tossed down his napkin.
"You know, man, I been thinking about what you said about Warren Haynes' guitar playing. I think Eddie Van Halen is better."
Sam's eyes narrowed. "I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to suck me into an argument about guitarists and it's not going to work."
"No, man. Just stating a fact. Haynes is good, no doubt. But Van Halen. Way better."
Rolling his eyes, Sam crossed his arms and long legs. He glared at Carlos. "What's this really about? You don't think that. You told me yesterday you hate Van Halen."
"You're not yourself, dude. You okay?" Tim asked.
"I'm good. I'm just dandy." His response was somewhat hostile. Excusing himself, he took his dishes to the kitchen.
All eyes turned to Emma for explanation.
"Don't look at me. I have no idea. Excuse me." She got up and followed him, her dishes in hand.
Sam said nothing, merely took her dishes and rinsed them.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Peachy." He tried to walk away, but her hand on his arm stopped him.
"You're upset about something. We can all tell. Are you worried about Hempe?"
He shook his head, jaw working.
"Sam. Don't lie to me. I know you're worried. I'm terrified."
He held out his arms, taking her in his embrace. Emma clung to him, whimpering. The others started clearing the table, so the two of them moved into the community room.
"I always worry about your safety, Em. But we're safe here. You have to realize that. We've got armed guards and gates—"
"And you're still worried. I'm not the one who needs convincing, you are. If you relaxed, I'd relax. You're so tense." She felt his arms and the span of his shoulders. "Oh, baby. This no sex thing is killing you."
"You think?" He stalked away, hand tugging his hair. "Two weeks. I can handle two weeks." God, I can't handle two more f**king weeks!
"This isn't any easier for me, you know. At least you have the means to do something about yours. I just have to suffer. So, unless you've got a vibrator in your pants, along with that really delicious dick, shut up."
Vera happened to walk in right as she said that. A loud snort startled Sam and Emma.
"Sorry. Not exactly the conversation I thought we'd be having." Vera turned to go.
"No, you can stay," Emma said. "Tell him, though, it's no easier on women than it is on men. He seems to think he corners the market on lust, because he has testicles."
"Oh, babe, you wish. We may not get wood, but I assure you that we get to hurtin' too. Need that good lovin'. You can smack it. I don't know about sugar pea, but it's not easy pleasuring myself. I can't seem to get off on it at all."
"Nope," Emma replied. "Requires other equipment entirely."
Sam had to laugh. They both sounded so serious, he knew they were telling the truth. It put his own misery in perspective. "Okay. I'm being a dick."
"No, babe, but you've got one," Vera said. "And I'm guessing...." she narrowed her eyes, staring at his fly. "It's a nice one."
His hand went over his groin and he felt like she was trying to remove his jeans with her eyes. "Stop that!"
"It's a very nice one," Emma said. She held out her hands, index fingers about eight inches apart.
"F**king stop it!" Sam yelled.
Molly walked in, giving him the evil eye. He reached in his pocket and handed her a dollar.
"I don't give change," she replied.
"Keep it. I've said a few you missed."
©2020 Dellani Oakes
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