Chapter 4 Sam
SAM
PRESENT DAY
“You need to get out of this damn depressing house. We’re going out. Go take a shower. You smell like shit,” Duke barks at me.
I’m lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling of my bedroom. I’m tempted to tell him to fuck off, but he’d probably do something dramatic, like beat my ass. Plus, he’s right. I haven’t left my house since the funeral two weeks ago.
Has it really only been that long?
“Where are we going?” I sit up, groaning when he jerks the blackout curtains of my room open, illuminating the dark cave I’ve been rotting in.
“I don’t know—a party or something. Maybe you need to get laid, remember what a woman feels like and rejoin the land of the living.”
He starts sorting through a pile of my dirty laundry. I doubt there’s any clean clothes left.
I stand, stretching my arms overhead. I’ve been wearing the same sweatpants for three days, since the last time I showered. He’s right; I smell like shit.
“I need a drink.”
As if reading my mind, he tosses me a beer. I catch it, popping open the tab and chugging half of it before walking into my en suite bathroom.
The house I inherited from my grandfather was built eighty years ago, but the classic black-and-white tiles my grandmother chose for the bathroom have stood the test of time.
The shiplap walls could use a fresh coat of paint.
My grandmother loved the ocean, so she decorated the massive house with a mix of coastal and Western elements.
I turn the knob of my walk-in shower on. The glass needs cleaning, and I’m sure the grout could use a good scrubbing.
All right, the whole damn house is a pigsty.
I step under the cold spray. I grit my teeth, letting the icy water shock my system and wake me up.
I’ve been floating between drunk and hungover for days.
I squirt some shampoo out of the bottle into my hand and scrub it through my hair.
It’s getting too damn long. I brush my teeth for twice as long as usual, still in the shower.
My mind drifts back to the few days I spent with my grandfather before he passed. Buzz was a man of few words, but when he spoke, I listened.
His only child was my mother. She was a meth addict and a prostitute, but like all little boys, I loved my mama with my entire being.
She died when I was seven, and CPS didn’t find my only living relatives until seven months after her death because she’d cut off contact with them years before.
My brief experience in foster care was almost as fucked up as the beginning of my life, but it was the only time I ever knew what it was like to have a sibling.
Buzz shared bits and pieces of why they cut off contact with my mother and the abuse I’d suffered before I was placed with my grandparents permanently. I didn’t realize how much of my early childhood memories I’d blocked out of my memory. It was almost like he knew he was dying.
His one big regret was not fighting for custody of me sooner, but they’d had no idea how bad my mother’s addiction had gotten. I told him it wouldn’t have mattered. If he’d forcibly taken me from her, I don’t know if I could’ve ever forgiven them and loved them the way I did.
He never said a word about my biological father. I’ve never known who he was.
I watch the soap and water swirl down the shower and let my brief trip down memory lane wash away with it. There’s a reason I have a chronic avoidance and detachment issue. It’s easier than dealing with the pain and trauma.
After scrubbing my whole body, I step out and look around for a towel. There are no clean ones, so I have to use a dirty one from the floor. I dry myself off before wrapping it around my waist.
When I walk out of the bathroom, Duke is looking out the window, down at the driveway. He turns to me.
“I called Lolita. She’s gonna start while we’re gone.”
I nod. I should’ve already called the housekeeper, but until today, I didn’t even notice how bad the mess had gotten.
I walk over to the closet that’s big enough to be a small bedroom and pull out my last pair of clean jeans that I didn’t know were in the back.
They have holes in the knees because I usually save them for workdays.
I haven’t been working my ranch lately. The fact that it’s solely my responsibility now sits like a lead weight in my stomach.
Hopefully, my foreman, Billy, has been keeping things going.
I’ve seen him driving in and out every day with a few of the ranch hands.
I shove the grief aside, refusing to give in to it again. Tonight, I need to let loose. Tomorrow, I’ll worry about business. I grab a button-down black shirt off a hanger and quickly get dressed.
When I walk back out into the room, Duke tosses me some deodorant and cologne. “You should shave.”
I shake my head and finish applying the deodorant. I spritz the cologne on my neck before setting it down. “Anything else, Mom?”
“You gonna go barefoot?”
“No clean socks.”
He rolls his eyes, searching around the ground. He picks up a pair that doesn’t look too bad and hands them to me. After putting them on, I pull my snakeskin cowboy boots on and grab my nice straw Stetson off the dresser.
“You look semi-human again, finally. Let’s go.”
Once we get downstairs, he leads me into the kitchen.
The wood beams on the ceiling are hewn from massive trees on the property that fell during a tornado the year the house was built.
My grandmother was an incredible cook, so the kitchen has a commercial-grade oven and plenty of counter space.
The soft yellow of the cabinets is complemented well by the neutral wood stain on the original hardwood floors and butcher block countertops.
Since my grandmother died, Lolita’s the only one who’s ever used the space.
Now, it’s littered with takeout boxes and empty beer cans.
The front door creaks open.
“Hello, Mr. Seymour?”
I grit my teeth. She used to call my grandfather Mr. Seymour, and I was just Sam.
“In the kitchen, Lolita,” Duke calls out.
He grabs a bottle of bourbon from the counter and pours us each a shot. He hands me mine with a grin. “We gonna fuck some shit up tonight?”
I clink my glass with his before letting it burn down my throat. I slam it down on the counter before turning to Lolita as she enters.
“Call me Sam.”
She smiles, her round eyes softening. “Okay, Sam. You really should have called me sooner.”
“I know; I know. I’ll pay double this time. Can you wash my sheets?”
She nods, waving a wrinkled hand in the air. “I take care of everything. I’ll need to come back tomorrow to finish.”
I nod, noting from the old clock on the wall that it’s already four in the afternoon.
“Then I guess we won’t be coming back until after lunch tomorrow.” Duke claps me on the shoulder before strutting toward the front door.
The man grunts in pain as I slam his arm down on the table. I raise my hands overhead in victory. The blonde next to me yelps with excitement, throwing herself around my neck.
“You’re kicking ass! That’s your third win!”
Duke signals the bartender, swirling his finger in a circle. “Another round, Harry!”
He grins, wrapping his arm around the blonde’s redheaded friend. I remember them being pretty when we first got here, but now I can’t really tell. My head is swimming with hard liquor. I sway on my feet, blinking as the girl hangs on me.
I reach up, peeling her hands off of me.
I stumble toward the bathroom. There are way too many people stuffed inside Old Harry’s tonight.
I squeeze through the bodies, heading toward the men’s room.
After I get in and relieve myself, I step back out into the hallway and accidentally bump into someone.
I reach my hand out to steady the person.
When I lift my gaze, I make eye contact with my ex-girlfriend, Keely.
“Oh, hey. Sorry, Keels.”
She leans into me. “Don’t be sorry. Who’s the whore you’re hanging out with?” She presses her breasts into me.
I shrug. “Must be from out of town.” I try to walk past her, but she presses a hand to my chest. “Sam … what are we doing?”
I look down at her. I dated Keely throughout high school.
I know she wants to rekindle things. When I asked her to come over a couple of days ago, I regretted it as soon as she got there.
Instead of hooking up with her, I gave her a box of her things and sent her home.
She tried to get into bed with me, and by the look on her face, I can tell she wants to again.
She feels wrong now, and I can’t put my finger on why.
Something in me changed when my grandfather died. The reality of how short life can be, how fragile we all are, has settled over me like a weighted blanket.
Her laugh always annoyed me. Keely is a pretty face, a willing body … but nothing more.
If I ever did get married, I’d want her to be my best friend, like my grandparents were. Like Holden and Rosie are. And I know I’m not capable of a deeper love like that, especially not with Keely.
I’m meant to be alone, and I’ve finally accepted it.
I’ve sworn off relationships that last longer than one night.
I feel like shit for leading her on, so I’m not doing it anymore.
I didn’t even realize that was what I had been doing until she told me she loved me and wanted to get married, and I couldn’t say it back.
I’ve never felt love for anyone besides my dead family—and maybe Duke’s dumb ass. Maybe I’m just not capable of it.
“It’s not gonna happen, Keels.” I grip her wrist, pushing her away from me. “I’m sorry.”
She gapes at me, frozen in place. I turn away from her, walking back out to where my best friend is sipping on a beer.
He hands me mine. The girls are each perched on one of his legs.
The blond one moves over to me once I claim my barstool again.
Her musky perfume reaches my nostrils when she leans back against me.
It’s too strong, too … something. I don’t know what exactly, but she just smells wrong.
“You know what? I’m hungry. We should go to your place,” I tell Duke.
Damn. I don’t know why I said that.
He frowns. “Why don’t we just order something here?”
I lean back, feigning indifference. “I’m just bored. I don’t care where we eat.” The bourbon is controlling my mouth, and I need it to stop.
Duke looks at the girls. “You ladies want to take the party elsewhere?”
They both nod, smiling at each other.
“Sure,” the redhead says, kissing Duke’s jaw.
“Cool,” I say, standing up and pushing the blonde off my lap. “Who’s driving?”
“I was gonna call Holden or Dolly.”
My pulse rate spikes. I don’t want Dolly here right now. I’m still too drunk to control myself around her. I’ll end up staring—or worse, touch her like I did when she brought the cake over—and he’ll notice.
He pulls out his phone and taps the screen.
I start to question my suggestion to go to Redford Ranch.
After what happened at my place, Moonlight Ranch, I need time to recalibrate my indifference act toward his little sister.
She’s an itch I want to scratch, nothing more. But, damn, I want to scratch it.
“You know what? You’re right; let’s just eat here.”
Duke shakes his head. “Nah, I wanna play pool, and the Bartletts are hogging the table.”
“We should just challenge them.”
He’s already pressing the phone to his ear. “Holden will play us. He never gets to have fun anymore.” He pinches the redhead’s side before speaking into the phone. “Hey. Yeah, can you come pick us up from Old Harry’s? Thanks.”
He hangs up. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask who’s coming to get us, but I manage to resist. I don’t care if Dolly sees me with this random girl hanging on me.
My friendship with Duke is more important than the inconvenient attraction I feel toward his little sister.
I value my life too much to give in to that carnal desire.
I pull the blonde closer to me, nuzzling her neck.
“Hmm, you smell good, baby. You ready to get out of here?”