Twist to Remove

*Author's Note: Any persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

*Disclaimers: this story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-Check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.

**.***.**

"I, you serious? You, you really can't be serious," George Luquette sputtered as Reynold Reynolds told him he had just been served.

"Afraid I am, buddy," the large man said, face a mask of sympathy as he snapped a digital photograph of George holding the large brown envelope.

George stood on the small porch of his home, staring at the rotund process server as the man wheezed and groaned, stepping down from the porch. He looked at the front door of his home again, keys still in his hand.

"I, but, I..." George sputtered.

"And, sir? There's a restraining order. You need to have someone with the police department come in with you so you can get your things," Reynold advised as he waddled away.

"Man! Samantha, huh? What's this about?" George screamed at the door.

"Sir, you, you've been told about that restraining order," Reynold said, opening the door of his large thirty nine year old Cadillac coupe. "Don't make this worse than it has to be, okay?"

George shook his head in bewilderment; as far as he knew, he and Samantha had been happy. She had certainly rocked his world the night before he left for another fourteen day shift off-shore. He supposed fourteen days was long enough for someone to decide they wanted to end their marriage and file for divorce, but he could not think of anything he had done or said that would make his wife file for the dissolution of their marriage.

George thought to call his wife's cousin, Polly Chastaine. But, looking over the paperwork for the dissolution of their marriage, George saw that it had been Polly that had prepared and filed the paperwork.

"Sir?" a stone faced police officer intoned, rapping on the window of George's truck. "Sir? You've been advised of the restraining order."

"Wow, that was quick," George bluffed. "I just called it in and you're already here?"

"I, you, no, I got a call that you were in violation of your restraining order," Brian Jochet said.

"Oh? So you're not here to help me get my stuff?" George asked.

Brian called into the station and let them know he was there to assist George Luquette in removing his personal items from the house. George patiently waited as the police officer reported to his station.

"You didn't really call it in, did you?" Brian smirked, walking up.

"No. But, as long as you're here..." George said.

George was savvy enough to keep his mouth shut as Samantha let him and the police officer into the house. With a sneer, Samantha pointed to several garbage bags and said she'd already packed everything of George's. George nodded and asked Brian, not Samantha if he was allowed to double-check that she truly had packed everything he was entitled to.

"Officer? I am reaching into my nightstand to retrieve my pistol," George said as they stood in the master bedroom.

"You ain't got..." Samantha sneered, then shut up as George retrieved his.44 Smith & Wesson.

"And my rosary; my mother gave that to me when I made my first communion," George said, plucking the sterling silver rosary from Samantha's nightstand drawer.

"You gave that to me when we married," Samantha protested.

"And now, you don't want to be married? I'm taking it back," George explained to her.

George also took his three pillows from the bed. He then removed a large blanket from the hall closet.

"My sister made it for me," George softly explained to Brian.

"She was a fucking retard," Samantha taunted George.

"And she called you Sissy because she was so happy to finally have a big sister," George reminded Samantha, removing the sneer from Samantha's face.

Attempting to check into the DeGarde Inn, George found out that Samantha had been busy. His cards had been cancelled. A check of their joint checking account showed that there was a balance of one hundred dollars. George smiled at the nervous clerk and fished out his American Express credit card. The girl's hand actually shook as she took it from his hand. George almost laughed when she let out her breath.

"She didn't know about that card," George explained to the young lady. "I used it to buy her birthday and Christmas gifts with."

In the room, George again read through the paperwork. He almost spit out the Dr. Pepper he was sipping; Samantha was demanding four thousand dollars a month spousal support, demanding full ownership of the home, with George continuing to pay the mortgage and all utilities. In return, she graciously would allow George all the money in their savings and checking accounts.

Again, George was truly baffled; there had been no sign of Samantha's dissatisfaction with him or their marriage. True, she called him a 'stick in the mud' but she'd been calling him that for years. When they purchased the house, Samantha wanted to run right out and get this and that and the other thing for the home. Instead, George planned each big ticket item carefully. He also doubled up on their mortgage payments each month.

"It's called equity," George explained to Samantha when she wanted to put money into their vacation account rather than their house account.

"But Hawaii..." Samantha whined.

"Will still be there for our tenth year anniversary," George assured her. "That's only three years away and we'll have three years more money in both the vacation and the house."

Hawaii had been stunning. Pictures of the island paradise just did not do justice. And Samantha, his pale skinned red headed beauty had looked beautiful in her turquoise blue monikini. George had really enjoyed applying the sunscreen on her luscious body.

George hoped Samantha had packed his three Hawaiian shirts when she'd emptied his side of their closet. He doubted he'd ever return to the island paradise, but he liked the loose, comfortable shirts. With a sigh, George searched on his cell phone for a good attorney.

Richards, Pellichet and Jones," a pleasant sounding voice answered.

When he heard the voice announce the name of the law firm, the enormity of his situation hit him. George took a shuddering breath. The pleasant sounding voice again repeated the name of the law firm.

"Need an appointment with a divorce attorney," George managed to choke out.

"Yes sir," Ethel Gerrard said, voice low and soothing.

Ethel took some information and assured George a lawyer would be in touch with him within the hour. George thanked her and finished drinking his Dr. Pepper. Once again, George had the thought that a vending machine that sold beer would be a huge money maker.

"Trevor Williams," Trevor announced when George answered his cell phone. "I, hmm, I can see you tomorrow morning, how's nine thirty work for you?"

Trevor pulled some strings and had a judge order the return of monies to the bank accounts. Samantha was shocked when Polly called her and threatened to withdraw herself from the divorce if Samantha pulled any more stunts. Samantha wondered how George had managed to get an attorney; she'd purposefully withdrawn all the money, leaving just enough for George to rent a motel room for a few nights. She'd cancelled their credit cards before he'd gone off-shore for his fourteen day shift and had the cards reissued in her name only.

"Doesn't matter how he managed to get a lawyer. He got one," Polly snapped. "Cousin or not? I will not put up with this kind of crap. Do you understand?"

Grumbling, Samantha returned fifty percent of the funds to their checking account and their savings account. She also handed over four of the eight CDs she'd taken out of the safety deposit box.

"What about the house? The mortgage?" Samantha demanded.

"He will continue to pay half until the judge makes a decision regarding division of assets," Polly said.

"And electric?" Samantha demanded.

"He's not living there; you are. Pay your bills," Polly sighed. "You know, despite what your friends might have told you? You don't automatically get the gold mine and he gets the shaft in a no-fault divorce. And Samantha? These allegations of abuse? You better be able to back them up. The courts really really really do not like being lied to or used; hear?"

With the money in his new bank account, George rented a one bedroom apartment in a relatively nice Kimble Louisiana neighborhood. The Casual was within walking distance and Cowboy's BBQ was a three minute car ride away. The young couple that rented the apartment next to his were gregarious, loud, and friendly. He was working at Kendricks Engineering and she worked at Alana's Playtime, in the shipping department.

"You work with Bowman? You know, we're the ones do your upgrades and maintenance," Foster Charmers said proudly.

"Yes sir," George smiled as he and Foster managed to wrestle George's almost new sofa up the stairs and into George's apartment.

Denise Charmers somehow managed to get George to leave his mailbox key and spare apartment key with her. She would check his mail and put his mail into his apartment; their mailboxes were right next to one another at the apartment's kiosk. She was offended when George asked how much that would cost him. Foster suggested a six pack of St. Elizabeth Lager, but Denise slapped her husband on his buttocks.

"We neighbors yeah. Neighbors, they do stuff like that," Denise said, her Cajun accent thick.

"Can this neighbor buy y'all a six pack of beer, just because?" George asked, seeing the disappointment on Foster's face.

The next time George saw Samantha, she was sporting a noticeable baby bump. She was also standing with an arrogant looking man in a very expensive suit.

"And you 'bout how far gone?" George asked Samantha.

"We can petition..." Trevor reminded the stone faced Samantha.

"'Bout four months," Samantha admitted.

As the two attorneys dickered back and forth, George looked at his wife. She was a true beauty; waist length red hair, porcelain skin with only a spatter of freckles across her slim nose. Her deep brown eyes had entranced George the first time he'd seen her, and her pouting lips had kept him under her spell for the twelve years of their courtship and marriage.

Samantha Chastaine had sported a 29B chest, a twenty five inch waist and thirty inch hips with an adorable bubble butt on her five foot five inch frame. George had been smitten from their first meeting and the looks she kept shooting his way said she'd felt pretty smitten with George Alan Luquette as well.

At six feet, George was tall when compared to the average Cajun male. His thick brown hair threatened to burst into curls and his deep tan set off his square face and wide smile and deep brown eyes to perfection.

Working off-shore as a roughneck had put muscle on George's frame. His clothes fit him snugly and Samantha had been impressed with the package in front of her.

"And you can dance too," Samantha had laughed happily as they cavorted around to the Zydeco band's lively music.

Now, sitting in a courtroom in the St. Elizabeth Parish courthouse, George again looked at his beautiful red head. She had that happy glow pregnant women seem to have and George smiled sadly; she would most likely get the bigger boobs she'd always moaned about.

Since Samantha could offer no proof regarding the alleged verbal and emotional abuse, the restraining order was revoked. Trevor smirked when George whispered that he had no desire to be within five hundred yards of her anyway.

"Maybe. It keeps you out of jail though," Trevor reminded George. "Means you can go grocery shopping, don't need to worry she might pop up on the next aisle and start screaming you're in violation of the restraining order. Police? Aren't inclined to believe you didn't know she was there."

"What, why, why you want that?" Samantha shrilled when George, through Trevor demanded the paternity test. "It's not yours."

"Insurance. You can't tell me you got better insurance through your job, huh?" George asked.

"But, but I'm already on your insurance," Samantha argued.

"Oh no ma'am you are not," George laughed a bitter laugh. "Dropped your bubble butt minute you had me served."

"Uh? Remember you used like my bubble butt just fine," Samantha sneered.

"No. I loved your bubble butt. I loved all of you," George muttered to his attorney.

"I'll put her and my baby on my insurance," William sneered.

"Well, you can most likely kiss any spousal support bye-bye," Polly hissed to Samantha.

"What? Why?" Samantha demanded.

"You and genius there just admitted you've been fornicating while you were still married to, and residing with Mr. Luquette," Polly sighed. "In the future? Zip your lips and leave your boyfriend at home, okay?"

Before he left for another fourteen day shift, George submitted a blood sample to Dr. Frank Roberts. The man smiled as he assured George that doing a DNA test while the baby was in the Mommy was safe; the baby would not be harmed in any way. The sample was actually taken from the amniotic fluid and not the baby.

Dr. Roberts did tell both Trevor and Polly of George's concerns. Samantha's eyes filled with tears when Polly relayed that information to her.

"You know, maybe it might not be too late," Polly quietly suggested to her cousin.

Samantha just shook her head. She left her cousin's office and drove to Mouton Park. Sitting on a swing, Samantha slowly swung back and forth until the sun's oppressive heat drove her back to her air-conditioned car.

Bowman engineering had insurance through Young Insurance. Tri-Carter, Wiliam's place of employment had their insurance through Mutual Fidelity Insurance Group. Dr. Roger Peleur accepted Young Insurance's medical plans but did not accept Mutual Fidelity. Dr. Ellen Sweetman did accept Mutual Fidelity, but Samantha had been going to Dr. Peleur ever since marrying George and getting on his insurance plan. And, on her one and only visit to Dr. Ellen Sweetman, Samantha did not like the 'conveyor belt' approach the good doctor and her staff seemed to have.

"She gave me that fine ass," William crassly proclaimed the next time the parties met to go over insurance and other matters relating to George and Samantha's baby. "Said she never let you near her ass but gave it to me and believe me, she liked it."

"Oh my God! Shut up!" Polly shrilled at the man.

"Jesus, William. Really?" Samantha screeched, highly embarrassed.

George could smell alcohol. He was fairly certain the smell was not coming from himself or his attorney, or from Samantha and her attorney.

"Really? Well, she always said I was too big," George said calmly. "But congratulations. I'm sure it is just fantastic."

"Zip it," Trevor hissed, trying to hide his amusement.

George smirked at William's hot blush as the two paralegals and the reporter could not hide their snickers. William glared white hot hatred at Polly when Polly ordered him from the conference room.

After the paperwork was signed and notarized, Trevor and George both visited the restroom. George was pretty sure he'd picked up a bug on his shift off shore; his bowels were loose. Trevor spoke through the closed door of the stall and wished his client well before leaving.

"Yeah, yeah, I got three days get whatever this is out of my system," George grunted.

Coming out of the restroom, George almost plowed into Samantha, who was leaving the Ladies' room. George apologized and let Samantha proceed him to the glass doors of the office building.

"Damn, but that really is a nice ass," George said to himself as Samantha walked in front of him.

Getting into his pickup truck, George saw Samantha looking around. His first instinct was to shrug and drive away. She'd filed for divorce; she'd evicted him from his own home. But his second instinct won out and he lowered the window of his truck.

"Problem?" he asked.

"I, I, William, we was parked right here," Samantha stammered, pointing to an empty parking space.

"Where you going?" George asked, digging his cell phone out of the truck's console.

"I, home, I guess," Samantha admitted.

"Mm, hmm, okay, oh! How 'bout that? Uber's already on his way here," George said, looking at his phone's screen.

"I, you, you don't have do that," Samantha stammered, embarrassed.

"Samantha, you was a total stranger? I wouldn't be able to just drive off and leave you here. But, you not a stranger. You the mother of my baby," George said gently.

"Hey! How 'bout that? Dropping off a lunch order and I get a notice you're needing a ride," a smiling young man said, pulling up in a fairly new BMW. "You George?"

"I'm George. That's what I was telling her; you're on your way," George said. "Thanks; have a great day."

Samantha's eyes filled with tears again as she watched George's truck pull out of the parking lot. She got into the back seat of the Uber driver's car and waited while Polly's paralegal accepted the several bags from Cowboy's BBQ.

"Man! Now I'm super hungry, smelling all that food!" the young man laughed. "And I'm taking you to, oh hey! Those, they got some nice homes in that area!"

"Yeah. Yeah they do," Samantha agreed quietly.

Denise sent Foster over to George's apartment with a big bowl of her chicken noodle soup. George and Foster both shared a smirk over Denise's insistence that chicken noodle soup would cure whatever it was that George had, but George did eat the delicious soup. After washing and drying the bowl, George filled the bowl to the brim with Reese's Pieces; Denise had let it slip that those were her favorite. Foster and George both laughed at Denise's excited squeal. Even though she protested that he should not have done that, she didn't need the calories, did George know how fattening those candies were, Denise was chomping her way through a handful of the candy.

While off-shore, George used 'Auto-Pay' through his bank to pay all bills. He did not know why, but he smiled at seeing a bill from Dr. Roger Peleur among the bills.

"Hey we going to Vermillion and you coming yeah," Denise ordered when George came in.

"Okay," George smiled, knowing arguing with his headstrong neighbor would do no good.

"Shirlee Fornet playing; you like her?" Denise went on.

"She's got a friend from work she's wanting you to meet," Foster warned George when Denise returned to her bedroom to finish getting ready.

"She ain't from work; I just seen her at work," Denise corrected.

Tammy Hale was a real estate agent with flaming red hair and a vivacious personality. George liked her from the start and the feeling seemed to be mutual. They danced nearly every dance and when they stopped to have a beer, they chatted and laughed.

But even though they had enjoyed the night, both Tammy and George knew there was no spark, no real chemistry between them. They parted with a kiss to the cheek and a sincere thank you for a fun time.

"Denise ain't going quit," Foster said and George smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"Listen; I'm working all the time," George said. "So, kind of hard for me to meet women on my own."

"See?" Denise crowed triumphantly. "So you just hush."

"But, Denise? No more red heads, okay?" George said, showing Denise a picture of Samantha on his cell phone.

"Oh! Now, why you didn't say nothing?" Denise gasped, seeing that Samantha and Tammy could be sisters.

"'Cause you ain't never asked," Foster said triumphantly.

"You was going get you some," Denise declared. "But now?"

"Aw, come on woman; I took you dancing," Foster whined as they closed their apartment door.

The thick envelope was on his kitchen table, along with some other mail when George returned from a nerve-wracking shift. There was a tropical depression that threatened to turn into a hurricane and as the shift supervisor, George kept an eye on the weather. He got very little sleep and worried each day if he should evacuate the rig. He was grateful to step onto the boat and leave the worry and stress to Greg Boookhammer, the other shift supervisor.