Twist to Remove

"Oh! Isle of view," Charlene said, reading her coffee mug.

"Love you too; I'm fixing heat up some stew; you staying?" George asked.

"Huh? No, no, my momma's making her stove top stuffed peppers; she got the recipe off that Cast Iron Skillet show. You ever watch him?" Charlene asked.

"Milt Duhon? Yeah. Loved the one he did with Gator and Rat from that kiddie show," George agreed.

"Oh, I know! I laughed when he was going hit Gator with his frying pan," Charlene giggled.

With a steamy kiss, Charlene left his apartment. George ate his supper, then bathed his baby girl and fed her a bottle of breast milk. He tried to remember the words to the lullabies, but had to hum most of the songs as he cradled the baby in his arms.

The management company put a notice in the mailbox; George had one month left on his lease. If he would sign up for another year, they would cut one hundred dollars from the first month's rent. If he signed up for a six month lease, they would take fifty dollars off the first month's rent. But if he decided to become a 'month by month' renter, then their rent would go up twenty five dollars monthly.

"One good thing you done, Denise," George thought as he called Tammy Hale.

"So, what you looking for?" Tammy asked pleasantly. "Denise says you got a baby; congratulations."

Looking at the Davis Realty web site while he and Tammy chatted, George saw a one story home three blocks away from his former residence. He gave Tammy the address and the MLS number.

"Oh! That one? Oh, yes sir; it's priced to sell," Tammy agreed. "I can pick you up and..."

"Tammy, unless you have a car seat in your car? I'll meet you there," George insisted.

Denise insisted on coming, so, grumbling, Foster pried himself away from the ESPN Sports high lights.

"Look! It, it's got a good fenced in yard; you can put up a swing set out here," Denise declared.

"Basketball goal's already up," Foster said, seeing the old backboard and hoop set up above the garage. "Need you a net for it, though."

"He's taking that ugly thing down yeah," Denise insisted.

"I am?" George smiled.

"Well yeah. What? Think Cynthia going be some basketball player?" Denise said. "Now, here? Here's where you need put her baby bed, this room right here."

Charlene came out the next night and approved of the house; it was a fifteen minute walk from her parents' home. It was quicker if she took her bike, and quicker still if she drove her car.

"And it got a gas stove?" Charlene enthused.

"Tammy? Let's get started on the paperwork," George said.

The application was approved, First National Bank of DeGarde rubber-stamped George's home loan, and Foster supervised the loading of George's furniture when Short Moves pulled up to the apartment complex. Denise supervised the unloading of George's furniture and boxes at the new home. The three muscle-bound men were professional; they knew enough to politely agree with everything the short woman said.

"Thank you, ma'am," the foreman said when Denise handed each man a crumpled twenty and even more crumpled five.

"Man! Better believe whoever she married to? They toe that line," one of the men said as they hustled to get to their next scheduled move.

"My momma? Could whip your ass with a wooden spoon, then cook supper with same spoon five minutes later," the foreman agreed. "Them coon ass women? Don't be messing with them."

Samantha came, bringing Cynthia and William to George's new house. George was gracious to both Samantha and William; truthfully, he did not want the arrogant, smirking man in his house. But George was mature enough to know, nothing would be accomplished by being rude or inhospitable.

"Wow, you could just about walk here," Samantha commented.

"Yeah; you'll probably see us out and about, walking," George said, showing Samantha the brand new stroller he'd bought.

"Uh huh. No pool?" William sneered, peering into the back yard through the atrium doors.

"William," Samantha said tightly.

"What? God damn. Can't say shit without you getting all pissed off?" William argued.

"Hey, whose Benz that is?" Charlene asked, coming into the house.

"Mine," William smiled, eyes managing to bypass Charlene's pretty face and latch firmly onto Charlene's impressive chest.

Given that Charlene was fourteen inches shorter than William, he really had to cast his eyes far down to see her chest stretching the boundaries of her blouse. William did not see the girl's annoyed look; she resisted the urge to put her arm over her breasts.

"Um, George? This is..." Samantha demanded, hackles rising as her boyfriend stared holes through the stranger's blouse.

"Samantha, this is Charlene Charmers," George said. "She's my uh, my girlfriend."

George did not know why he had a hard time admitting that the beautiful girl was his girlfriend. George supposed part of his hesitation was because he had a hard time accepting the fact that Samantha was his EX-wife and not his wife.

"Charlene? This is Samantha," George said. "She's Cynthia's mommy."

"Uh huh," Charlene said, coming to stand next to George. "So nice to meet you."

The grip Charlene put on George's hand let him know he would be explaining, or attempting to explain that little hiccup in his voice when introducing her as his girlfriend.

"Mm hmm," Samantha agreed, glaring at William as William continued to stare at Charlene's chest.

In Cynthia's nursery, George had put a changing table as well as a new low dresser. Samantha was not surprised to see that the changing table matched Cynthia's crib. She was not surprised that there was an adorable lamp, a pretty little ballerina stretching up and holding the lamp shade aloft.

That was part of what had irritated Samantha so much about her husband, her ex-husband. Everything was neat and orderly and in its place. Their finances were the same way; neat, orderly, and organized. They had the money; they could have gone to Hawaii. But George insisted they wait.

"And we had a lot more money to do a lot more stuff," Samantha murmured, seeing the toy box in the closet, several brand new toys waiting for Cynthia to start playing with them.

"Let's go," Samantha suddenly demanded, grabbing William's hand.

Samantha almost smiled; she could read the expression on Charlene's face. George was in for a tongue lashing for some perceived slight.

William, as self-absorbed as he was, could read the intention in Samantha's grip on his hand. He was in for yet another lecture about some supposed sin he'd committed. He took one more look at the midget's fantastic chest and asked Samantha if she'd ever thought of breast implants.

George did get the tongue lashing; Charlene tearfully asked if he was somehow ashamed of her, embarrassed by her. Or, could it be, was he not over his ex-wife? Was that it; did he still carry a torch for the beautiful red head?

George hugged and kissed Charlene, easily lifting her in his strong arms. Softly, quietly, he explained the mental hurdle he'd faced with his ex-wife and his love in the same room at the same time.

"I'm your love?" Charlene asked, melting in his embrace.

While George and Charlene were making up, cuddled on his couch, William was in Samantha's living room, sprawled on her comfortable couch, waiting impatiently for Samantha's latest tongue lashing. Idly, he wondered if the engagement ring would shut her up. He'd thought about taking Samantha, without the whiney baby, Jesus, just how often do babies cry, do they ever stop filling diapers with shit, on an Alaskan cruise and proposing to her as they walked on a glacier. But now, with that loser George having to watch the brat, good God, just how big were those tits on that midget, now was just as good a time as any to pop the question.

"I'm going out," Samantha said, hurrying through the living room to the garage. "I, I don't know when I'll be back. You're on your own for supper, hear?"

"Oh. Okay," William said, getting to his feet. "Love you."

William did not notice that Samantha did not return the endearment. He walked to the bar in the corner and poured himself a few fingers of George's St. Elizabeth Premium whiskey. Testing the bottle's weight, William poured a few more fingers into the glass.

"Need to see you," Samantha had texted her cousin Polly while William had driven the three blocks from George's new home to their home.

Polly's response did not make Samantha very happy; Polly and her wife were at The Casual, a little dive the two women had decided was their place. Samantha would have preferred the total privacy of Polly's office, or better still, Polly's beautiful and comfortable home. Without Whitney there.

Samantha did not dislike the beautiful blonde; it was damned hard to dislike the bubbly, sweet, affectionate Whitney. But their homosexuality made Samantha uncomfortable. Without Whitney's presence, Samantha could ignore Polly's lifestyle choices, pretend it didn't exist.

"Hey Terry? Another diet for me and they'll have shots of that Oakleaf, okay?" Polly cheerfully called out when Samantha entered the cozy, quiet bar.

"Yay!" Whitney giggled happily, leaning against Polly.

"Joe Bob, Carla's on her way, hear?" Terry, an older man told a severely inebriated customer.

"Aw, shit, great. She sees me like this..." Joe Bob slurred, putting his head on the bar.

"Sip it slowly," Whitney coached when Terry put a shot glass of amber liquid in front of Samantha.

"Oh! Son of a...this, this is good!" Samantha enthused, sipping the smooth whiskey.

"So. What's up?" Polly asked, herding Samantha and Whitney to a corner booth.

Samantha started, stopped, started, stopped, took another sip of the whiskey and shook her head. Polly softly put her hand on Whitney's thigh when she saw Whitney was about to come to Samantha's aid.

The arrival of a beautiful but haggard looking dishwater blonde did halt their conversation. They could not hear what the woman was saying to the drunken man, but they could hear the desperation in the tone of her voice.

"Yeah, yeah, God damn it, let's go," Joe Bob snarled, stumbling off of his stool.

After another breath, Samantha looked at the dark paneled wall and started speaking. Quietly, she told the two women she'd felt suffocated, trapped in her marriage with George Luquette. She wanted to live, she wanted to have fun. But George could not or would not be spontaneous, fun.

"He even makes the bed before he leaves the room," Samantha sputtered. "Swears he can't leave the bedroom until..."

Whitney giggled and Polly playfully slapped Whitney. Samantha did not notice the loving exchange between the two women as she continued complaining about George's careful plotting and planning and preparation.

Then she talked about meeting William when he came in for Margarita Friday. Being an attractive red head with what many considered to be a very nice bubble butt, Samantha was used to being approached by male, and sometimes female customers. Most were deterred when Samantha showed them her very nice engagement ring and matching wedding band.

"George saved up every penny he could," Samantha said quietly, looking at her bare finger. "He even did some house painting on the weeks he was in."

"Aw!" Whitney couldn't help the admiring sigh that escaped her lips.

"Yeah," Samantha agreed softly and tried to get another sip of the excellent whiskey from her empty glass.

That Friday morning, Samantha had mentioned to George that she had seen a brand new Lexus on the road the other day. She had not said she wanted one, she simply said she'd seen one and it was very pretty. George immediately vetoed the idea of her getting a brand new any make and model of car.

"Depreciation starts the minute those wheels touch the ground," Samantha now mimicked George's deep voice.

Samantha had gone to work that day with a sour attitude. When the handsome, glib William Carter had been seated in her section, Samantha had noticed the expensive suit, the large diamond ring and the Rolex watch. When he'd left his signed receipt, with a 100% gratuity added, William had also left his business card.

"Not the first time someone's left their business card," Samantha mumbled.

But it was the first time Samantha didn't just throw the card away. Tri-Carter's logo was in the top right hand corner and William Carter, President of Sales was directly centered on the card. On the back, William had written his cell phone number.

At first, the illicit affair had been exciting, thrilling, spontaneous and fun. The first time William had taken her ass, it had hurt, Samantha had protested. The second time, an odd warmth had filled her guts. The third time, Samantha had blacked out from the intensity of her orgasm.

"Then George came in. For a whole week, I had to be the good, dutiful wife, doing good, dutiful things, pinching every penny until Lincoln let out a squeal," Samantha ruminated.

"And now?" Polly queried after a long pause.

"And now?" Samantha mused, looking at the table top.

True, they did not pinch pennies. If Samantha wanted cinnamon rolls, she could get the Pillsbury brand and not the Burns & Burns Grocers brand. She could get the eye of round to make her beef stroganoff, instead of the stew meat George always insisted on.

She and William went to the movies at the regular time most people went, and not to the dollar off matinees. William went to the concession stand and bought the giant buttered popcorn, with extra butter. And, afterward, they went to Yum Yum Ice Cream for a sundae. George always held out one or the other. They could get a large buttered popcorn and a drink, or, they could go to the ice cream parlor afterward.

"Okay, so George is a cheapskate," Polly said.

"No, no, he's not. He's not a cheapskate," Samantha came to George's defense. "He's, he's...he's just uber-practical."

William was not practical. William had never thought to save for a rainy day; he'd had a golden umbrella his entire life.

Everything in her home, the home that she and William shared, every stick of furniture, every glass, every plate had been purchased by George. Samantha tried, but could not name one item in the house that William had contributed.

"The soap," Samantha said out loud. "I get the A and A soap."

"I love the raw milk and honey one," Whitney enthused.

"Stuff stinks," Polly teased.

"I get the blackberry," Samantha absently offered.

"Another?" Polly quietly offered when Smantha again picked up her empty glass.

"Yes, Whitney, you can have another one too," Polly laughed and Whitney flounced to the bar.

"I, you, you're not drinking?" Samantha noticed when Whitney put two shot glasses onto the table.

"Not good for the baby," Polly smiled and Whitney let out another happy squeal.

Samantha was shocked as Whitney's hand went to Polly's flat tummy. Polly put her hand over Whitney's hand, holding Whitney's hand against their baby.

Samantha took a sip of her whiskey and tried to smile for her cousin and her cousin's wife. Obviously, they were both elated about the pregnancy. William had been pleased, strutting around like a proud cock in the chicken coop. Until George's damned DNA test came back, showing that George was the father, and not William.

"I hope it's a girl; she and Cynthia can play together," Samantha said as Whitney giggled and Polly beamed.

"So, Samantha...What are you thinking?" Polly asked after several moments of silence.

Samantha had been thinking of the stilted, uncomfortable Sunday dinner at Minnie Carter's home the previous Sunday. The meal itself had been delicious; Minnie's very proper English house servant had prepared the meal. Minnie had been polite but cold to Samantha and had not even looked at Cynthia. Natalie, William's sister had a rambunctious two year old daughter, Elizabeth Carter; Natalie had been somewhat friendly to Samantha. Andrew, William's younger brother had brought his wife, his precocious five year old daughter Riana and his one year old son AJ, Andrew Junior to the meal.

Andrew had been a red head with hard, cold eyes. His wife Victoria was a bizarre sight with facial piercings and tattoos. Andrew called her 'Ria' and Samantha had made the supposed faux pas of calling the freakish looking blonde 'Ria.'

"Samantha? Sweetie? We're not lovers," Victoria had said, voice hard. "So, don't call me RIA, okay?"

"Sorry. I uh, it's just...sorry," Samantha had stammered.

And that had been the end of any real conversation. Samantha's compliment on his cooking had been met with a stone-faced nod from the old servant. Samantha had thanked Minnie for inviting her to her beautiful home for dinner and Minnie had simply nodded, fake smile on her face.

From her first moment at Miss Barbara's home, George's mother had pulled Samantha into the kitchen. Naturally, Cindy wanted to follow and the three women had cooked the Sunday meal together while George and his father sat and watched some boring football game on the television.

"You go 'way," Cindy had ordered when George stuck his head in the kitchen. "It's just us girls. No boys!"

"YEAH!" Samantha had giggled, earning herself a beaming smile from Cindy.

Samantha remembered, every Sunday was like that. The warmth of the Luquette kitchen, the smells, the laughter, Cindy wanting constant validation from Miss Barbara, from Samantha. Samantha had no doubt, the next Sunday dinner at Miss Carter's home would be just as stilted, just as uncomfortable. And the one after that would be the same, stilted and uncomfortable. And William had not noticed; he'd been genuinely surprised when Samantha mentioned her discomfort.

I'm thinking I got a bad case of buyer's remorse," Samantha admitted to her cousin, pulling her eyes from the table's dark wood.

"And..." Polly prompted.

"And. Nothing. Absolutely God damned nothing," Samantha said, tossing back the last sip of her drink.

Returning to her house, Samantha heated up a Lean Cuisine meal. She wasn't in the mood for sex, but stoically gave in to William's coaxing and undressed. She did achieve an orgasm; William did know how to eat pussy and was hell-bent on bringing Samantha to climax before he would mount her. William didn't seem to understand, it wasn't always necessary for Samantha to have an orgasm. Sometimes, like tonight, she just wanted it done and over with.

William approached George and asked George if he could somehow watch Cynthia for two weeks while he took Samantha on a cruise. George made the arrangements with Bowman; not for William or Samantha, but for his daughter.

Samantha was nearly frantic when they boarded the ship; before, when George had their daughter, she was only a few minutes away. But, here, on a cruise line, she would be several hundred miles away. Should her baby need her, Samantha had no way of getting to Cynthia.

"God damn! Man! Hear that? Hear that?" William enthused as he sprawled on the bed in their cabin.

"Huh?" Samantha asked, looking around.

"That's right. No screaming, crying brats," William chortled.

At that very moment, Samantha hated William Carter with all of her heart. Her baby, her precious little girl was no brat. Her daughter was no imposition, no inconvenience.

And, hiking across the glacier, William got on one knee, holding out a ring with a four carat square cut diamond. To Samantha, it had to be one of the ugliest rings she'd ever seen. It was just gaudy; even though she was sure it carried a hefty price tag, Samantha thought the ring looked cheap and tawdry.

"No," Samantha quietly, firmly responded.

"I, what? What? You, you have got to be kidding me!" William sputtered, truly shocked.

"No use making a bad situation worse," William," Samantha sighed, turning to rejoin the tour group.

The return trip was made in stony silence. To Samantha, the return trip was more enjoyable; William wasn't pestering her for sex and she was that much closer to her baby girl.